Skip to main content

Full text of "St. Nicholas [serial]"

See other formats

Pari rwo 

®()e JLibxavp 


WLnibtv&ity of ilortf) Carolina 

Jz^Pn gCW^ 



Illustrated Magazine 

For Young Folks 



Part II., May, 1894, to October, 1894. 



Copyright, 1894, by The Century Co. 

The De Vinne Press. 

libniy, Univ. of 

North , . 




Six Months — May, 1894, to October, 1894. 

Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2012 with funding from 

University of North Carolina at Chapel Hil 



Abraham Johanne Magnarch. Verse. (Illustrated by H. J. S.) Juliet Wilbur Tompkins .... 730 

Admiral and the Midshipmite, The. (Illustrated by A. J. Keller) Mary Murdoch Mason 843 

American Authors. (Illustrated) ! Brander Matthews. 

Washington Irving 630 

James Fenimore Cooper . . . S72 

American Bicyclers at Mont St. Michel. (Illustrated by 11. Fenn and > , rr 

, . I Edward II. Elwell, Jr 848 

olhers) S 

Ana, Mana, Mona, Mike. Verse. (Illustrated by Rudolph F. Bunner). . . .Lee Carter 587 

Ancient Musical Instruments. (Illustrated by Harry Fenn) II. S. Conant 588 

Anthony and the Ancients. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Tudor Jenks 948 

Artist's Daughter, The. (Illustrated by Maria Brooks) Benjamin Webster 657 

At School. Verse. (Illustrated by David Ericson) M. M. D 832 

At the Party. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Malcolm Douglas 611 

August Shower, An. Picture, drawn by Harry Allchin S77 

Banbury Tailor, The. Jingle. (Illustrated and engrossed by R. B. Birch) Malcolm Douglas 596 

Bears of North America, The. (Illustrated by J. C. Beard and Henry >„,.„. „ „ , „ „ „ 
w E , . tt \ \ William T. Hornaday . . 778,898 

Beautiful Ballad of Lady Lee, The. Poem. (Illustrated by Granville \ 

Smith) S Charles Hen 'y Webb 597 

Belated Violet, A. Poem. ( Illustrated by the Author) Oliver Herford I°49 

Bicyclers, American, at Mont St. Michel. (Illustrated by H. Fenn j 

,■ Edward IT. Elwell, Jr 848 

and others) ) ^ 

Billy : The Story of a Bear. (Illustrated by the Author) Tappan Adney 1020 

" Blessed Bees," A True Story' of the Alice B. Englc 733 

Bonny Bicycle, A. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) F. II. Littlejohn 861 

Bowl of Honey, A. Verse. (Illustrated by W. A. McCullough) Annie Isabel Willis 886 

Bravery Half the Battle Christopher Valentine 964 

Brownies Through the Union, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author). Palmer Cox. 

The Brownies in the Empire State 612 

The Brownies in Florida 785 

The Brownies in Kentucky 996 

Bumblebees, The. Verse. (Illustrated) Nell K. McElhone 963 

Butterfly Thoughts. Picture, drawn by Ethel Reed . . . 669 

Central Park Animals, Glimpses of. (Illustrated by Meredith Nugent). . George Ethelbert Walsh.. . 916 

"Characters" of Theophrastus and Others, The. (Illustrated by R. ) 

j, t>. . v \ William Jasper Nicolls 1065 

" Charles Carroll of Carrollton " Sally Campbell 817 

Chinaman and the Monkey', The. Picture, drawn by P. Newell . 1084 

Chum, My. Jingle. (Illustrated from a photograph) Dorothea Lummis 887 

Cooper, James Fenimore. (Illustrated) Brander Matthews . . 872 

Cora's Puma Rug, The Story of. (Illustrated by Win. A. McCullough) . .Ernest Ingcrsoll 1086 

Coyote, The. (Illustrated by George Wharton Edwards) Charles F. Lummis 1000 

Daughters of Zeus, The. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) D. O. S. Lowell 905 

Decatur and Somers. (Illustrated by J. O. Davidson, Granville Smith, > 

u r. c , , , , , , ( Alolly Elliot Seawcll 5 7 Q 

r . Cresson Schell, and olhers) > ' ■"■ 

. 669,767,856,966,1055 

" Difficult Seed, The. Poem. (Illustrated by Oliver Herford) Mildred Howells 642 

J** Disappointed Sportsmen, The. Verse. (Illustrated by W. H. Drake) .... W. M. Davis 1084 

•^Discontented Stone-cutter, The. (Illustrated by Oliver Herford) II. P. Mcintosh 706 

ti Doctor Field-Mouse. (Illustrated) Charles F. Liimmis 1082 

ff Don. Poem. (Illustrated) Clinton Scollard 700 

— Drum-major, The. (Illustrated) Gustav Kobbc 791 



Finding a Treasure Agnes Lewis Mitchill 655 

Fish-day. Picture, drawn by Meredith Nugent 885 

Floral Enigmas. Verse Caro A. Dugan 745 

Four-leaved Clover in the Desert, A. (Illustrated by the Author) .... Mary Hallock Foote . . . 644, 694 
Fur-bearers, A Few of Our. (Illustrated by J. C. Beard, C. B. Hudson, i 

and others) \ mlliam T - Homaday 600 

Glimpses of Central Park Animals. (Illustrated by Meredith Nugent) . .George Ethelbtrt Walsh .... 916 

Gossamer Spider, The. Poem. (Illustrated) Edith M. Thomas 1019 

Guessing. Poem Agnes Lewis Mitchill 628 

G. Whillikens. (Illusirated by V. Perard) James Barnes 862 

Happy-Go-Lucky. Jingle. (Illustrated by S. Crosby) ' Jessie B. McClure 866 

Highly Connected. Jingle. (Illustrated by the Author) Oliver Herford 960 

Historic Dwarfs. (Illustrated) Mary Shears Roberts. 

Zotof 701 

Hokey-Pokey Man, The. Verse. (Illustrated by C T. Hill) Louise Mcrgan Sill 734 

Holiday, The. Verse. (Illustrated by R. F. Bunner) Lee Carter 731 

Horse that Did n't Eat his Head off, The. (Illustrated by Guy Rose) .Sophie Swett 1070 

How Curious ! Verse Tudor Jenks 587 

How Meta Saved the Mill. (Illustrated by Irving R. Wiles) Elizabeth WorthingtonFiske. 867 

How Willy's Ship Came Back. Poem. (Illustrated by G. Varian) M. M. D 931 

Ichthyology. Verse. (Illustrated by Albertine Randall Wheelan) Laura E. Richards ... 821 

IN Japan. Poem. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Juliet Wi/bor Tompkins .... 790 

In the Fields. Verse. (Illustrated by J. H. Hatfield) Thomas Tapper 920 

In the Path of a Sound Steamer. (Illustrated by W. Taber) Gervis Howe 878 

Irving, Washington. (Illustrated) Brandcr Matthews 630 

Jack Ballister's Fortunes. (Illustrated by the Author) Howard Pyle 617 

712, 801,889,977, 1033 

Jack's Literary Effort Tudor Jenks 1024 

Japan, In. Poem. (Illusirated by R. B. Birch) Juliet Wilbor Tompkins .... 790 

Jingles 596, 627, 636, 662, 732, 749, 750, 819, 824, S32, 866, 887, 960, 963, 994, 1004, 1009, 1054 

July the Fourth. Jingle Thomas Tapper 824 

" Kearsarge," The Last of the. (Illustrated by J. O. Davidson, E. J. ji 

Meeker, F. H. Schell, and from photographs) ) 

KING OF THE Samoyed, The. Poem. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Elbridge S. Brooks I027 

Lady Lee, The Beautiful Ballad of. Poem. (Illustrated by Granville j 

Smith) \ Charles Henry Webb 597 

Lions of the Sea, The. (Illustrated by C. B. Hudson and others) William T. Hornaday . . . . 1043 

Little Dryad, The. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Mary L. B. Branch 678 

Little King with a Long Name, A. (Illustrated from photographs) John Williamson Palmer . . . 971 

Little Poet, The. Jingle. (Illustrated and engrossed by R. B. Birch) . . . Malcolm Douglas 596 

Little Quaker, A. Poem. (Illustrated from a photograph) Edith M. Thomas 1004 

Lucifer. (Illustrated by Meredith Nugent) Rachel Carew 932 

.May. Poem Han-iet F. Blodgett 643 

M eado w Brook, The. Poem. (Illustrated) Curtis May 711 

Medical Opinion, A. Jingle. (Illustrated by the Author) J. G. Francis 732 

Mere Matter of Taste, A. Jingle. (Illustrated) E. L. Sylvester 662 

Miller's Quest, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Oliver H rford 910 

Miser Elf, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Oliver Herford 961 

Mob of Blots, The. Verse. (Illustrated by A. R. Wheelan) Margaret Vandegrift .... 651 

Model Speller, A. Jingle. (Illustrated by W. H. Drake) Charles Baltell Loomis . . . 627 

Monsieur et Madame Crapaud. Verse Anna K. Almy 691 

Muses, The Nine. (" Daughters of Zeus ") D. O. S. Lozuell 905 

Musical Instruments, Some Ancient. (Illustrated by Harry Fenn) H- S. Conant 588 

Nan Merrifield's Choice. (Illustrated by Francis Day) Alice Batch Abbot 757- 

Nature and Art. Jingle. (Illustrated by the Author) Oliver Herford 750' 

Naughty Fay, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Oliver Herford 962 

New Dolly, The. Picture, drawn by John Richards 62S 

North Pole, A Visit to the Thomas W. Hall 819 

Not Like Common Folk. Poem. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Adele M. llayward 1081. . 



Nous Avons Change Tout Cela. Jingle Jessie Macmillan Anderson . 749 

Old Colonel Camera. Verse. (Illustrated by A. R. Wheelan) Margaret Vandegrift 81 8 

One-sided Correspondence, A Antoinette Colay 882 

Peril Among the Pearls. (Illustrated by W. Taber and J. C. Beard) .... Charles G. D. Roberts 638 

Perilous Crossing, A. Picture, drawn by Mary Hallock Foote 1042 

Phoebe. Poem Julie M. Lippmann 705 

Pictures 611, 628, 669, 744, 877, 885, 888, 965, 1003, 1042, 1084, 1091, 1094 

Piper, The. Poem. (Illustrated by R. F. Bunner) Lee Carter 1090 

Plucky Connecticut Girl, A. (Illustrated by W. Granville Smith) Laura B. Hall 918 

Poet with a Way of his Own, A. Verse Emma A. Opper 1026 

Poor Dorothy True. Verse. (Illustrated by A. F. Scott) Margaret Seymour Hall ... 1064 

Practising. Verse. (Illustrated by C T. Hill) Eliza Chester 964 

Prodigy, A. Verse. (Illustrated by Georg Stoopendaal) E. L. Sylvester 728 

Punctuation Points, The. Verse Julia M. Colton 7S9 

Puzzled Birds. (Illustrated by Meredith Nugent) Edward S. Moore 740 

Quadrupeds of North America, The. (Illustrated by J. C. Beard, C. B. ) 

Hudson, L. Palmer, and others) \ Wil!iam T - ^omaday. 

A Few of Our Fur-bearers 600 

The Racoon and his Friends 6S6 

The Bears of North America 778, 898 

The Walrus 953 

The Lions of the Sea 1043 

Queer Taste. Jingle. (Illustrated by the Author) Frederick B. Opper 994 

Racoon and his Friends, The. (Illustrated by J. C. Beard, L. Palmer, > 

and others) \ mlham T - Hornaday 686 

Rain and the Robin. Poem. (Illustrated) Duncan Campbell Scott 747 

Real Uncle Remus Story, A. Picture, drawn by Wm. F. Kline 888 

Recollections of the Wild Life. (Illustrated) Dr. diaries Alex. Eastman . 637 

Reynard's Clever Escape. (Illustrated) Benjamin Webster 692 

Rhymes of the States. Verse. (Illustrated by Harry Fenn) Garrett Newkirk. 

Maine 652 

New Hampshire 654 

Vermont 73 7 

Massachusetts 738 

Rhode Island 830 

Connecticut 831 

New York 922 

New Jersey 923 

Pennsylvania 1006 

Delaware 1007 

Maryland 1098 

Virginia and West Virginia 1099 

Russian School, A. Verse. (Illustrated by A. B. Frost) J. T. Greenleaf , 685 

Saga of Olaf the Young, The. Poem Anna Robeson Brown 667 

"Said a Man Unused to Babies." Jingle. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch). .Malcolm Douglas 819 

Scholar and the Parrot, The. (Illustrated by the Author) H. He/mick 629 

Sea Change, A. Jingle. (Illustrated by the Author) J. G. Francis 732 

Sign-post, The. Poem. (Illustrated by the Author) Rudolph F. Bunner . . 847 

Sir Bedivere Bors. Jingle. (Illustrated by the Author) Frederick B. Opper 1054 

Sir Morven's Hunt. Poem. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) William R. Thayer 755 

Sir Walter Raleigh's House at Youghal. (Illustrated) Goddard H. Orpen 1077 

Some Ancient Musical Instruments. (Illustrated by Harry Fenn) H. S. Conant 588 

Spider's Tale, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Oliver Herford 729 

Stamp-Collecting. (Illustrated) Crawford Capen. 

(A page devoted to the interests of collectors will be found each month in 
the advertising department.) 

Story of the Lake, The. (Illustrated by George Wharton Edwards) Charles F. Lummis 912 

Studlefunks' Bonfire, The. (Illustrated by the Author) J. William Fosdick 825 

Study of Arithmetic, The. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Malcolm Douglas 965 



Supposition, A. Jingle. (Illustrated by Georg Stoopendaal) E. L. Sylvester 636 

Three Disobedient Little Rabbits, The Story of. (Illustrated by ) 

F.S. Church) \M.R.S 1094 

Through the Alphabet. Jingle. (Illustrated by R. F. Bunner) Lee Carter 1004 

Tides, The. Verse. (Illustrated by J. H. Hatfield) Thomas Tapper 920 

" Tiger's " Merry-go-round. (Illustrated-by the Author) Frank Dellan 1050 

Tourney, The. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) F. //. Littlejohn 1086 

Troop of Wolves After a Deer, A. (Illustrated by Tappan Adney). . . . Thomas C. Birnie 991 ' 

Troubled. Verse. (Illustrated by Otto Wolf) M. M. D 881 

True Story of the " Blessed Bees," A Alice B. Engle 733 

Turkeys, About. (Illustrated) Mary J?. Cox 735 

Turkey's Nest, The. Verse Frank H. Sweet 657 

Two School-houses and a Shipwreck. (Illustrated from photographs). ..Isabel Marbitry 986 

Under the Pond-lilies. Picture, drawn by Charles Volkmar 1003 

Vandeveer Medal, The Emma A. Opper 945 

Very Good Times. Verse. (Illustrated by J. O. Robinson) E. L. Sylvester 684 

Visit to the North Pole, A Thomas W. Hall 819 

Waking. Poem Katharine Pyle 700 

Walrus, The. (Illustrated) William T. Hornaday 953. 

Wasp and the Spider, The. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) F. H. Littlejohn 860 

Waterproof Folk. Verse Agnes Lewis Mitchill 655 

Way of the World, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Frederick B. Opper 995. 

What Time Does Papa Come ? Picture, drawn by Wm. A. McCullough 744 

When Baby Goes A-Sailing. Poem Charles Gordon Rogers 1091 

When King Kijolly Hunting Goes. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) . Rudolph F. Bunner 637 

Whippoorwill, The. Poem V. Lansing Collins 887 

Whistler, The. Poem Clinton Scollard 846 

Wreck of the " Markham," The. (Illustrated by M. J. Burns) Edwin Fiske Kimball 938 

Yankee Napoleon, A. Picture, from a photograph 1091 

Yarn of Sailor Ben's, A. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Tudor Jenks 722 

Young Hero, A. (Illustrated by H. Fenn and H. A. Ogden) Mary S. Northrop 794 

Z6TOF. (Illustrated) Mary Shears Roberts 701 


" The Bloom of May," by Francis Day, facing Title-page of Volume — " June Roses," by Frank French, page 
666 — "And Loudest Rang Sir Morven's Laugh," by R. B. Birch, page 754 — "A Day in the Woods," by Albert 
E. Sterner, page 842 — "They were Mermaids, as Sure as I 'm Living," by G. Varian, page 930 — "Gathering 
Autumn Leaves," from a painting by William M. Chase, page 101S. 

Jack-in-the-Pulpit. (Illustrated.) 

Introduction — A Hypnotized Dog — Bees that Interrupted an Auction — A Baby Racoon (illustrated) — 
Who can Answer? — Lord Macaulay's Riddle, 742; Introduction — The Titmouse — How I Earned Five 
Dollars — The Chrysanthemum — An Acknowledgment — Who can Answer? — Queer Playmates (illustrated) 
— From the Deacon's Scrap-book — Sea-fowls' Eggs, IC92. 

For Very Little Folk. (Illustrated.) 

The Frog's Fourth of July Mary A. L. Eastman 833 

Dora and Her Ring H. N. Ptnoers 921 

The Brothers Agnes Lewis Mitchill 921 

The Cat and Rat that Lived in an Oven Margaret R. Gorseline 100S 

Early and Late IV. S. Reed 1009 

The Letter-box. (Illustrated) 660, 74S, 836, 924, 1012, 1100 

The Riddle-box. (Illustrated) 663, 751, 839, 927, 1015, 1 103 

Through the Scissors 658, 834, 1010 

Editorial Notes 836- 





Vol. XXI. 

MAY, 1894. 

No. 7 


Chapter I. 


The blue and beautiful Delaware Bay, bathed 
in a faint haze, looked its loveliest one evening 
about sunset, in June, 1798. The atmosphere 
was clear, and, although there was no moon, 
the stars were coming out brilliantly in the sky, 
that was of a darker blue than the water. The 
sun had gone down, but the west was yet rosy. 
The green, low-lying country around looked in- 
effably peaceful, and the only sound that broke 
the charmed silence was the rattling of the cap- 
stan, as a noble frigate, lying out in the offing, 
got up her anchors. 

Although the brief, enchanted twilight was 
over all the earth and sea, the graceful outlines 
of this lovely frigate were clearly defined against 
the opaline sky. She was stoutly sparred, but 
in such exquisite proportion that, from her rail 
up, she had the delicate beauty of a yacht. 
But one look at her lofty hull, and the menac- 
ing armament she carried, showed that she 
could both fight and run. Every rope and 
every spar was " shipshape and Bristol fashion." 

Copyright, 1894, by The Century Co 

Her bright work shone like gold, and the rows 
of glistening hammocks in the nettings were as 
white as snow. Everything about her was 
painted an immaculate white, except the hull, 
which was a polished black. A gorgeous fig- 
urehead ornamented her keen bows, and across 
her stern, in great gold letters, was her name : 
"United States." Such, indeed, was her offi- 
cial name, but, from the day she had first 
taken the water, she had been nicknamed " Old 
Wagoner," because of the steadiness with which 
she traveled. Other vessels might be delayed 
by vexing calms, but Old Wagoner was pretty 
sure to strike a favoring breeze that seemed 
specially reserved for her. And she could go 
through a roaring gale like a stormy petrel, and 
come out of it without losing a sail or a spar. 
A little way off from Old Wagoner lay a trim 
and handsome little sloop-of-war, carrying 
twenty guns, — " The Delaware," — a fit com- 
panion for the great frigate. On both ships 
were indications of speedy departure, and all 
the orderly bustle that precedes the making sail 
on a ship-of-war. The boats were all hoisted 
in except the first cutter, and that was being 

All rights reserved. 

5 8o 



pulled rapidly across the fast darkening water. 
In it was a very young lieutenant, who was af- 
terward to distinguish himself as Commodore 
Stewart, and two young midshipmen, just 
joined ; and each of the three was destined to 
add something to the reputation that Old Wag- 
oner gained in after years, of having been a 
nursery of naval heroes. 

Both of these young midshipmen were about 
eighteen. One of them, Decatur, looked older, 
from his height and strength, as well as from 
his easy and confident address. The other, 
Somers, seemed younger, because of a singu- 
larly quiet and diffident manner. The lieuten- 
ant in the stern-sheets, engaged in steering the 
cutter through the mist upon the water, without 
colliding with any of the fishing-smacks with 
which the bay was dotted, yet found time to 
ask some questions of the young midshipmen, 
with whom he had long been well acquainted. 

" I think you two have always been together, 
have you not ? " he asked, keeping meanwhile 
a bright lookout around him. 

" Yes," answered Decatur, " we have been 
together ever since we were born, it seems to 
me. We remember you when we were at 
school in Philadelphia — although you were so 
much older than we." 

" I recollect you both perfectly," answered 
Stewart, " although you were such little fellows. 
Somers was the quietest fellow in the school, 
and you, Decatur, were the noisiest." 

" I believe you," said Decatur, laughing. " I 
could have gone with my father in the Del- 
aware," — pointing to the smart little sloop- 
of-war, — "but I could not think of leaving 
Somers to fight it out in the steerage of the 
United States all by himself." 

At this, Somers turned his eyes on Stewart, 
with a laugh in them. They were very black 
and soft and full of humor, although Somers 
neither laughed nor talked much. 

" Don't mind Decatur, Mr. Stewart," he said. 
" Captain Decatur did n't want him on the 

" I should think not," replied Stewart. " I 
can't imagine anything more uncomfortable 
than for a captain to have his own son among 
the junior officers." 

"Just what my father said," added Decatur; 

" and, besides, he really did tell me he would 
like to keep Somers and me together for our 
first cruise — because Somers is such a steady 
old coach that he is fit to be the guardian of 
every midshipman in the navy." 

" I wish there were more like him, then," 
said Stewart, with rather a grim smile, remem- 
bering what a larky set of youngsters the 
steerage of Old Wagoner harbored. 

" Let me give you each one piece of advice," 
he added, as they drew close to the frigate's 
great black hull, that loomed up darkly in the 
purple haze. " Decatur, do you be rather care- 
ful what you say to your messmates. Somers, 
do you be careful what you allow your mess- 
mates to say to you. Decatur will be too 
quick to take the other midshipmen up, and 
you, Somers, will be too slow." 

" Thank you," said both Somers and Decatur 
together, for they appreciated Stewart's few 
words of caution. 

Just then the band on the poop of Old Wag- 
oner burst into " The Girl I Left Behind Me." 
The music rang charmingly over the darkening 
water, and the capstan rattled around at the 
liveliest possible rate, while the men worked 
inspired by the melody. The boat was quickly 
brought alongside, and just as Stewart and the 
two young midshipmen stepped on board, 
the officer of the deck called out the quick 
order, " Strike the bell eight ! Call the watch." 

The boatswain, with his mates, had been 
standing ready, and, as soon as eight bells 
were struck, he piped up "Attention !" and was 
answered by all his mates in quick succession. 
Then he blew a musical, winding call, ending 
suddenly by singing out in a rich bass, " All 
the watch ! " The men came tumbling up the 

While the busy commotion of relieving the 
watch was going on, Decatur and Somers were 
paying their respects to Commodore Barry, 
who commanded the ship, an old Revolution- 
ary officer, handsome and seamanlike, who 
gloried in his beautiful ship, and was every 
inch a sailor. 

The wind had been stealing up for some 
little time, and, as soon as the anchor was 
lifted, Old Wagoner shook out all her plain 
sails, and shaped her course for the open sea. 

i8 94 .: 



Decatur and Somers, on going below, were 
introduced to their messmates, Bainbridge, 
Spence, and others, and were shown where 
to sling their hammocks. Decatur directed 
everything in their joint arrangements. 

When, at two o'clock the next day, dinner 
was served in the steerage, Old Wagoner 
was dashing along in great style, with every 
sail drawing like a windlass. 

At dinner, the prospects of their cruise were 

ner, his fine figure, and his ready laugh, became 
instantly popular. Somers's quietness was not 
very well understood ; and, before the day 
was out, Decatur was asked, with the frank- 
ness of the steerage, if " Somers was n't rather 
a milksop ? " 

" You think so ? " answered Decatur, with a 
grin. " Very well. I 've known Somers ever 
since I was born. We went to our first school 
together, — and our last, — and I tell you, for 


freely discussed. The frigate and the sloop-of- 
war were under orders to sail for the West In- 
dies, and to clear out the great number of fleet 
French privateers that were playing havoc with 
American commerce. Every midshipman fully 
believed that they would return from the cruise 
covered with glory, and with thousands of dol- 
lars each, in prize-money. With a lot of merry, 
careless young midshipmen, the roseate hue al- 
ways prevails. Decatur, with his dashing man- 

your own good, that you had better mind your 
p's and q's with that sort of a milksop." 

Everything progressed very pleasantly for the 
first day or two ; but it was impossible for two 
new arrivals in the steerage to escape the 
"running" which, according to the code pre- 
vailing there, makes a man of a midshipman. 
Decatur having achieved immediate popularity, 
the pranks played on him were comparatively 
mild, and were taken with laughing good- 




nature. Somers also was amiable enough ; in 
fact, he was too amiable, for his messmates 
rather resented his want of spirit, as they mis- 
takenly thought it. Therefore it was that, three 
times in one day, Somers was told that he was 
" too fond of the lee of the mizzenmast." 

"That means," said Somers quietly, and look- 
ing in the face the youngster who last made the 
remark, " that you think I have n't much spunk. 
Very well. We shall both be off duty until 
to-night. Could n't we go to some quiet place 
in the hold where we could have it out ? " 

" Fighting is strictly prohibited," sung out 
Bainbridge, one of the older midshipmen. 
" But if you two fellows must fight, why have 
it out like gentlemen, and no bad blood after- 

" Just what I think," said Somers ; " and, as 
I hate fighting, I want to get through with all I 
shall have to do in that way, in as short a time 
as possible ; so I will settle with two other 
young gentlemen, against whom I have an ac- 
count, to-day. Then, I shall get only one 
hauling over the coals for three scrimmages. 
Decatur, you settle the particulars." And he 
walked off as composed as ever. 

" I told you fellows what a Trojan Somers 
was when he was started," remarked Decatur; 
" and now you '11 see for yourselves. He is 
wiry and as strong as a buffalo, and he is first- 
class with his fists, and — well, you '11 see." 

At these little affairs, fair play was the watch- 
word, and all of the midshipmen who were off 
duty assembled to see the fun. 

When Somers had knocked the wind out of 
his first adversary, and brought him to apolo- 
gize, it was proposed that the other affairs 
should be postponed. But Somers, being in for 
it, and the exercise rather warming his blood, 
invited his persecutor number two to " come 
on." He came on, with disastrous results in the 
way of a swelled nose. The third encounter 
being proposed, Decatur begged Somers to be 
allowed to take his place. 

" Why, I 'm like Paul Jones," cried Somers, 
laughing, as he sponged off his head and neck, — 
" ' I have n't begun to fight yet.' " 

True it was that Somers was then perfectly 
able to vanquish number three in fine style. As 
he stood over his opponent, who frankly ac- 

knowledged himself whipped, a cheer went up 
from the surrounding audience of midshipmen. 

That day's work established Somers's popu- 
larity in the steerage, and the three midship- 
men whom he had pommeled became his 
stanch friends. 

Decatur gave immediate promise of brilliancy 
as a seaman, but Somers was not far behind, 
and his uncommon steadiness recommended 
him highly to the lieutenants. Stewart, dining 
one night in the cabin with the commodore, 
was giving his impressions of the junior officers 
to the commander, who wished to appoint a 
master's mate of the hold — a place always 
given to the most reliable and best informed 
of the midshipmen. 

" They are all as fine a lot of youngsters, 
sir, as I ever saw. That young Decatur is a 
remarkable fellow. He finds out more than 
any of the rest, because he never has to ask 
the same thing twice. Before he had been on 
board a week, he knew every rope and where 
they were belayed ; and the clever youngster 
writes with a pencil behind the rail everything 
he is told. There 's a very good manual of 
seamanship written under the starboard rail, 
and Decatur and Somers may be seen every 
day, when they are not on duty, putting their 
heads together and studying it out." 

" And how about young Somers ? " asked 
the commodore. 

" Somers is the only one who rivals Decatur 
— and I must say I consider him the best bal- 
anced young fellow of his age I ever knew. 
His messmates have nicknamed him ' Old Re- 
liable.' He is not so brilliant as Decatur, but 
he is steady to the utmost degree. Nothing 
flusters him. He is never too early, and never 
too late ; he goes on his way quietly. And he 
has had only one reproof since he has been on 
board. And he evidently studied seamanship 
thoroughly before he was commissioned — just 
what I should expect of such a long-headed 

" Then Somers shall be master's mate of the 
hold," said the commodore, decisively. 

Next day, Somers was sent for to the cabin, 
and informed of the commodore's choice. He 
said merely, " Thank you, sir ; I shall do my 




Somers went down to the midshipmen's din- 
ner that day, and said nothing of his appoint- 
ment. Each of the reefers was eager to get the 
place of trust, and they began talking of it. 
Somers wished to tell them of his good fortune, 
but a sort of bashfulness restrained him. He 
turned red, though, and became more silent 
than usual. Decatur, who sat next him, 
looked keenly at him. 

" Somers, something is up, I see, — and I be- 
lieve — I believe you are going to be master's 
mate," he said. Somers blushed more than 
ever, as he announced, " I am master's mate. 
I was appointed to-day." Decatur, with one 
stretch of his powerful arm, raised his chum 
up standing. 

" You good-for-nothing lubber — you are 
made master's mate ? While Bainbridge, and 
Spence, and all the rest of us that are worth 
ten of you, are passed over ! I 'm going to 
prefer charges against the commodore for gross 
favoritism in giving you the appointment." 

Somers always submitted to this sort of horse- 
play from Decatur without the slightest resis- 
tance, and the effect was very comical. De- 
catur, after shaking him vigorously, plumped 
him back in his chair, when Somers calmly re- 
sumed his dinner as if nothing had occurred. 

In the midst of the jollity, a commotion was 
heard overhead, and the cry of " Sail, ho ! " 
In another moment, all the midshipmen made 
a dash for the gangway, and ran up on deck. 

Nearly every officer of the frigate was there 
too. Commodore Barry, glass in hand, watched, 
from the flying bridge, a sail off the starboard 
quarter. By the squareness of the yards and 
the symmetry of her sails, she was evidently a 
ship-of-war, and was coming down fast. The 
little Delaware, which sailed as well as Old 
Wagoner, was close by to starboard. 

Commodore Barry, who was a veteran of 
the glorious days of Paul Jones and the gal- 
lant though infant navy of the Revolution, was 
more than willing to engage. Every moment 
showed more and more clearly the character 
and force of the stranger. 

The day was bright and cloudless, and, as 
they were in the sunny atmosphere of West 
India waters, objects could be seen at a great 
distance. The frigate was remarkably hand- 

some, and sailed well. The Americans counted 
more than twenty portholes, and very accu- 
rately guessed her to be one of the great fifty- 
gun frigates of which both the French and 
English had many at that day. If she were 
French it meant a fight; and so nearly matched 
were the two frigates that it would be the 
squarest sort of a fight. 

The excitement on the ship was intense. 
Several of the more active officers clambered 
up the shrouds, while the rigging was full of 
men eager to make out the advancing ship, 
which was coming along at a good gait. And 
all were eager to know what colors the com- 
modore would show. 

" Mr. Ross," said Commodore Barry, turning 
to his first lieutenant, " we will show French 
colors, for, if he is a ' Mounseer,' it will en- 
courage him to make our acquaintance." 

The quartermaster, Danny Dixon, a hand- 
some, fresh-faced sailor of middle age, who 
had served under the immortal Paul Jones, 
quickly produced French colors, and, amid 
breathless silence, he ran them up. 

The stranger was now not more than a mile 
distant. She had worn no colors, but, on see- 
ing French colors run up at the American 
frigate's peak, in another moment she too dis- 
played the tricolored flag of France. 

At that, an involuntary cheer broke from the 
gallant fellows on Old Wagoner. Decatur, 
behind the commodore's back, deliberately 
turned a handspring, while even the dignified 
Somers executed a slight pirouette. 

As for the men, they dropped down upon the 
deck from the rigging, like magic, and every 
man ran to his station. Commodore Barry 
straightened himself up, and the old fire of bat- 
tle that had slumbered since the glorious days 
of the Revolution, shone in his eyes, under his 
shaggy brows. 

" Mr. Ross," said he, turning to his first 
lieutenant, " we are in good luck — in excellent 
good luck, sir. Signal to the Delaware to keep 
off. I think the officers and men of this ship 
would feel hurt if we should mar the beauty of 
the game we are about to play, by having odds 
in our favor. And call the men to quarters 
without the tap of drum. The first man who 
cheers until we have hailed, will be sent below 




to remain until after the engagement. I desire 
to come to close quarters without telling any 
more about ourselves than our friend, the 
enemy, can find out." 

In the midst of a dead silence, the signal was 
made to the Delaware. Only Decatur whis- 
pered to Somers, whose station was next to his: 

" Poor old Dad ! He 'd give all his old 
boots if he could have a share in the scrim- 

The Delaware then hauled off, making a 
short tack, and going no farther away than 
she could help. The strange frigate, whose 
trim and shipshape appearance grew plainer at 
every moment, was now nearly within hail. 
The American was preparing to bear up and 
run off as a preliminary to the action; the first 
lieutenant, under the commander's eye, stood 
near the wheel, while Danny Dixon took the 

In the midst of the breathless silence, the 
strange frigate continued to advance, short- 
ening sail meanwhile, and with her men at 
quarters, and her batteries lighted up. 

But at that moment Commodore Barry 
dashed his glass down with an impatient 

" We are truly unfortunate, gentlemen ! She 
is English ; look at her marines ! " 

At that moment, the stranger, discovering the 
American's character, quickly hauled down her 
French colors, and showed the Union Jack. A 
loud groan burst from the American sailors, 
and it was answered by a corresponding groan 
from the British tars, who felt a similar disap- 
pointment, deeming the American a Frenchman. 

Commodore Barry then ordered her to be 
hailed, and the first lieutenant called through 
the trumpet : " This is the American frigate, 
United States, forty-four guns, Commodore 
Barry ; who are you ? " 

" This is His Britannic Majesty's ship, ' The- 
tis,' fifty guns, Captain Langley." 

Both ships were on the same tack, and going 
at about the same speed. Commodore Barry 
then hailed again, asking if the English captain 
had any news of two crack French frigates, 
" LTnsurgente " and " La Vengeance," that 
were supposed to be cruising in that station. 
But the Englishman had no news to give. 

Chapter II. 


The brilliant visions of the midshipmen — 
yard-arm and yard-arm fights with French frig- 
ates, followed by promotion and prize-money 
galore — failed to materialize, although they 
had several sharp encounters with fleet French 
privateers that infested the waters of the French 
West Indies. With them, it was a trial of sea- 
manship, because, if ever a privateer got under 
the guns of Old Wagoner, small was her chance 
of escape. For the American proved to be a 
first-class sailor, and nothing that she chased 
got away from her. Several privateers were 
captured, but the midshipmen groaned in spirit 
over the absence of anything like a stand-up 

It did not seem likely that they would make 
a port for some time to come. Early in Feb- 
ruary, cruising to windward of Martinique, they 
ran across the French privateer " Tartufe " ; 
and Tartufe she proved. She was a beautiful 
little brigantine, with six shining brass guns ; 
and her captain evidently thought she could 
take care of herself; for, when the United 
States gave chase, and fired a gun from her" > 
bow-chasers, the saucy little privateer fired a 
gun back, and took to her heels. 

It was on a bright February afternoon that 
the chase began. The midshipmen thought it 
would be but child's play for the fine frigate 
to overhaul the Frenchman. But they had 
counted without their host. In vain did Old 
Wagoner crowd on sail, — the Tartufe managed 
to keep just out of gunshot. All the afternoon 
the exciting chase continued ; and, when night 
fell, a splendid moon rose, which made the sea 
almost as light as day. Both ships set every 
stitch of canvas that would draw, and at day- 
break it was found that the frigate had, in all 
those hours, gained only a mile or two on the 
brigantine. However, that was enough to bring 
her within range of Old Wagoner's batteries. 
The American then fired another gun, as a sig- 
nal for the Frenchman to haul down her colors. 
But, to their surprise, the Tartufe went directly 
about, her yards flying round like a windmill, 
and her captain endeavored to run directly 
under the broadside of the United States, be- 



fore the heavier frigate could come about. 
One well-directed shot, between wind and wa- 
ter, stopped the Frenchman's bold manceuver. 
The brigantine began at once to fill and settle, 
and her ensign was hauled down. Commodore 
Barry on seeing this cried out : 

"Lower away the second cutter"; and De- 
catur, being the officer in charge of that boat, 

seeing that his boat would be swamped if he 
eame near enough for the men to jump in, 
called out to the captain, saluting him mean- 
while, and asked if he would come off in 
one of the brigantine's boats, while the Tar- 
tufe was still able to get nearer the United 
States, so that her people could be more easily 


dropped into her stern sheets and pulled for the 
Frenchman. Commodore Barry, leaning over 
the side, called out, laughing, to Decatur: 

" I wish you to treat the Frenchman as if he 
were the captain of a forty-four-gun frigate 
coming aboard to surrender her. He has made 
a gallant run." 

Decatur, bearing this in mind, put off for the 
brigantine. The sun was just rising in glory, 
and, as he saw, in the clearness of the day, the 
plight of the pretty brigantine, he felt an acute 
pity. Her company of sixty men crowded to 
the rail, while her captain stood on the bridge, 
giving his orders as coolly as if his ship were 
coming to anchor in a friendly port. Decatur, 

" Sairtainly, sir, sairtainly," answered the 
French captain, politely, in his queer English. 

In a few moments, the boat containing the 
captain came alongside the cutter, and the 
Frenchman stepped aboard. He took his seat 
very coolly by Decatur in the stern sheets, and 
then, putting a single eye-glass in his eye, he 
coolly remarked, with a well-affected start of 
surprise : 

" Iz zat ze American flag I see flying ? And 
am I captured by ze Americans ? " 

"Yes, sir; we are Americans," answered De- 
catur, trying not to smile. 

" But I did not know zat ze United States 
was at war wiz France." 

5 86 


" Perhaps not," replied Decatur ; " but you 
found out, probably, from the American mer- 
chant-vessels you captured, that France was at 
war with the United States." 

At that the Frenchman laughed in spite of 
his defeat. 

" I can stand a leetle thing like this," he said. 
" I have had much good fortune, and when I 
tell my countrymen it took your superbe frigate 
fourteen hour to catch me — parbleu ! zay will 
not zink I haf done badlee." 

" You are quite right, sir," answered De- 
catur. " You gave us much trouble to over- 
haul you." 

The commodore and his officers all treated 
the brave French captain as if he had been the 
captain of a man-of-war; and, as he proved to 
be a very fine, entertaining fellow, he enlivened 
the ship very much. 

Commodore Barry was now anxious to get 
rid of so many prisoners, which encumbered 
the ship, and he determined to stand for Gua- 
deloupe, in the hope of effecting an exchange 
of prisoners. He therefore entered Basseterre 
Roads on a lovely morning a few days after cap- 
turing and sinking the Tartufe. A white flag 
flying at the gaff showed that he was bent on a 
peaceful errand. Everything, however, was in 
readiness, in case the men should have to go to 
quarters. Although the ports were open, the 
guns were not run out, nor were their tompions 
withdrawn. The French captain, standing on 
the quarter-deck, in his uniform, was easily 

The beautiful harbor of Guadeloupe, with its 
circuit of warlike forts, looked peculiarly attrac- 
tive to the eyes of seamen who had been cruis- 
ing for many long months. 

Old Wagoner had been newly painted, and, 
as she stood in the roads, under all her square 
canvas, she was a perfect picture of a ship. 
Just as they came abreast of the first fort, 
however, the land battery let fly, and a 
shower of cannon-balls plowed up the water, 

about two hundred yards from the advancing 

" Haul down that white flag," thundered 
Commodore Barry ; and Danny Dixon rushed 
to the halyards and dragged it down in a jiffy, 
and in another minute the roll of the drums, 
as the drummer-boys marched up and down 
beating "quarters," resounded through the ship. 
The French captain, mortified at the treacher- 
ous action of the forts, quickly drew his cap 
over his eyes, and went below. 

The United States then, with every gun 
manned and shotted, sailed within gunshot of 
the first fort that had offered the insult, and, 
backing her topsails, gave a broadside that sent 
the masonry tumbling about the ears of the 
garrison, and dismounted several guns. This 
was followed up by another and another broad- 
side, all accurately aimed, and knocking the 
fort considerably to pieces. Then, still under 
short canvas, she slowly sailed around the 
whole harbor, paying her compliments to every 
fort within gunshot, but without firing a gun 
into the helpless town ; and when Old Wagoner 
drew off and made her way back to the open 
ocean, it was conceded that she had served 
the Frenchmen right for their unchivalrous 

The whole spring was spent in cruising ; and 
it was the first of June before, on a Sunday 
morning, the ship being anchored, the boat- 
swain and his eight mates, standing in line in 
the port gangway, piped up that sound so dear 
to every sailor's heart, " All hands up anchor 
for home." At the same moment, the long, red 
pennant that signifies the ship is " homeward 
bound," was joyfully hoisted at the main, and 
Old Wagoner turned her nose toward home. 
Just one year from the time they had left the 
Delaware, Decatur and Somers set foot again 
upon the green shore of the beautiful bay, 
happier, wiser, and better fellows for their year 
in the steerage of the fine old frigate. 

( To be continued. ) 

Molly Elliot Scawell. 


By Tudor Jenks. 

Said one little girl to another little girl 

As proudly as could be, 
" I '11 tell you something very nice 

That my papa told me : 
He said I was the sweetest girl 

That ever there could be!" 

Said the other little girl to that one little girl 
"Why, now! — how can you be? 
For that is just the very same thing 

That my papa told me ! " 
(And neither was as sweet as my little girl — ■ 

As any one could see !) 

By Lee Carter. 

In the empty room we three 
Play the games we always like, 

And count to see who "it" shall be — 
Ana, mana, mona, mike. 

Round and round the rhyme will go 
Ere the final word shall strike, 

Counting fast or counting slow — 
Barcelona, bona, strike. 

What it all means no one knows, 
Mixed up like a peddler's pack, 

As from door to door he goes — 
Hare, ware, /row, /rack. 

Now we guess and now we doubt, 
Words enough or words we lack, 
Till the rhyming brings about 

Welcomed with a farewell shout — 
Hallico, ballico, we-wi-wo-wack, You are OUT ! 



By ■ H: 





USICAL instruments 
are older than written 
history. The earliest 
accounts of man men- 
tion them as in com- 
mon use, and flutes, 
harps, lyres, and 
stringed instruments 
with long necks and 
finger-boards are pictured in 
wall-paintings of the time of 
Moses, and in the carvings 
on ancient Assyrian monu- 
ments. In one of the early- 
chapters of Genesis, Jubal is 
called the father of all who handle the harp and 
the pipe, the harp being in ancient times the com- 
mon name of stringed instruments, as the pipe 
was of wind instruments. 
In all the fables of 
mythology music is rep- 
resented as soothing 
and inspiring, and as 
possessing mysterious 
power. Mercury is said 
to be the inventor of the 
lyre, which he gave to 
Apollo, who played it so 
sweetly that all the gods 
and even the cattle of the 
field stopped to listen. 
Orpheus, the son of 
Apollo, inherited the 
lyre, which he touched 
with such a masterly 
hand that he charmed 
wild beasts, and made 
the trees and mountains 
bow their heads and 
tremble with delight. 
The lyre was the old- 

est instrument of the Greek minstrels, and at 
every ancient festivity or banquet minstrels were 
always present, sweeping the strings of the lyre 
as they sang of the glorious deeds of heroes 
and warriors, and of the beauty of fair maidens. 
In Homer's Iliad and Odyssey are frequent 
allusions to the lyre and the flute. 

When Dr. Schliemann was exploring the 
ruins of buried cities in the ancient land of the 
Trojans where the scene of the Iliad is laid, 
he found many fragments of broken lyres, 
some of them of ivory, beautifully carved with 
graceful designs and decorated with gold and 
precious stones. The lyre was in use for many 
centuries after the almost fabulous time of the 
Trojans, but it is now an instrument of the past. 
Its memory lives in the name lyric, which is 
given to sweet, emotional songs like those for 


cxdcL "5* 




which, in olden time, 
the lyre was used as an 

Flutes made of the leg- 1 
bones of birds and other 
animals are found among the 
remains of the primitive cave- 
dwellers; but it is probable that before 
carving a bone flute, the cave-dweller, or 
some earlier inhabitant of the earth, of whom 
we have no knowledge, cut a reed, drew the 
pith, notched the reed in holes, and blew on 
it, delighted to find that he could produce 
sounds like the sighing of the wind. 

The reed flute represents the earliest form of 
musical instruments. The next step, probably, 
was the stretching of strings over a sounding- 
board of skin or resonant wood, or across a 
rude wooden frame. The drum, too, must 
have been in use in very early times, and it 
still holds an important place among musical 
instruments. There is not much music in a 
tom-tom; it makes a hideous racket when an 
African savage bangs on it with sticks, or with 
his fists ; but there is inspiration in the roll and 
tap of the drum-sticks in the hands of a skilful 
drummer in a military band. 

In the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New 
York city, there is an interesting collection of 
musical instruments of all nations, many of 
which belong to past centuries. They lie 
silently in the glass cases ; the strings of man- 
dolins and lutes that made sweet music in days 
gone by, are broken and twisted, and the fin- 
gers that once swept them have passed away, 
but still the air seems trembling with melody. 

pictures the 
the summer 
nights when 
the trouba- 
dour sang 
songs under 
window ; or 
the Bedouin 
camp in the 
desert, where 
the flute and 
guitar were 




played during the evening hour of repose. 
There are instruments here of all characters : 
rude violins and banjos, fashioned by savage 
hands, and dainty lyres inlaid with gold and mo- 
ther-of-pearl — instruments which have played 
their part in ancient ceremonies in far-away In- 
dia and China, in the castles of the Middle 
Ages, and in the African wilderness. It is in- 
teresting to note that all nations, in shaping 
musical instruments, have tried to make them 
beautiful to please the eye as well as to pro- 
duce sweet sounds. The stringed instruments 
and flutes of savage races are often grotesque, 
and even ugly, to civilized eyes, but the poor 
savage did his best. He carved his instrument 
as well as he could, and also often adorned it 
with whatever precious trinkets he had in his 

The ancient Chinese believed that music was 
of divine origin, and that it was a gift from the 
gods to man. They called it the twin sister of 
poetry, and believed that it had miraculous 
power over man and beast. An old Chinese 
hymn tells the story of a shepherd who wan- 
dered into the camp of a great army and made 
the soldiers so homesick, by playing familiar 
melodies on his flute, that they left the field on 
the eve of battle : " The flute of Chang-liang, 
in that little space, had stolen the courage of 
eight thousand men." 

Ancient Chinese instruments are of very neat 
workmanship. There is a small violin called 
ar-heen, which is made of dark wood, the head 
covered with snake-skin. It is not ornamented 
with any carved or inlaid designs, but it is 
beautifully made, and the wood is polished very 
smooth. There are only two silken strings, 
tuned in fifths, and played on with a horsehair 
bow. A three-string banjo, also covered with 
snake-skin, has a long neck, the top of which, 
where the strings are fastened, is carved to rep- 
resent a bat. There is also a very ingenious 
mouth-organ called ti-tzu. The body is made 
of wood, and in it are inserted seventeen pipes. 
The notes are made by stopping the holes in 
the pipes with the fingers. 

The Chinese are very fond of drums, which 
they call kou. The oldest drums were of baked 
clay with a skin head fastened on with nails in- 
stead of braced cords, which made it impossi- 

ble to tune them as modern drums are tuned. 
The variations of tone were regulated only by 
the force of the blow. 

The notes of Chinese music read, like the 
written characters, from right to left, and the in- 
tervals of the scale are different from those of 
the scale adopted by the nations of the west. 
The music is not very harmonious, and sounds 
meaningless and jangling to western ears, but it 
has a pretty, musical cadence that makes it at- 
tractive and interesting in spite of its frequent 

The vina, the national instrument of India, 
calls up a vision of troops of Nautch girls, dan- 
cing to its music, the little peals of silver bells 
fastened around their ankles, keeping time as 
they glide and whirl. The vina is a queer-look- 
ing instrument. It is a single bar of hollow 
bamboo, fastened with extended bird-claws, 
carved from wood, to two empty gourds. The 
ends of the bar are often beautifully carved to 
represent birds or heads of animals. Eight 
wire strings are stretched along the top of the 
hollow bamboo over a series of movable frets, 
and there are three other strings, which pass 
over a single fixed bridge. The player throws 
one gourd over his left shoulder, and passes 
the other under his right arm, holding the bam- 
boo diagonally across his breast. The frets are 
pressed with the left hand, and the strings are 
snapped with little hard strips called plectra, 
worn upon the first and third fingers of the 
right hand. 

Another beautiful instrument of India is the 
soorsringa, which is shaped something like a 
banjo, although it sounds more like a sweet 
guitar. It is made of very dark wood, with 
a round body, pear-shaped at the back, and a 
long, slender neck, and is beautifully inlaid with 
ivory and pearl. There are eight wire strings, 
which are played with a plectrum. The sawod, 
or East Indian guitar, is also a beauty, both in 
form and decoration. The sides and back are 
very dark green, almost black, covered with 
golden figures. 

One of the most graceful of ancient instru- 
ments is an old boat-shaped harp of Burmah. 
The body is of dark wood, with a sounding- 
board of buffalo-hide, and a cluster of silk cords 
and tassels is a pretty decoration fastened to 

i8 9 4-] 



the curved neck and falling around the front. 
There are thirteen silk strings, which are tuned 
by pushing them up and down the neck, to 
which they are fastened. The player holds the 
harp on his knee, with its neck over his left arm, 
and sweeps the strings with his right hand. This 
beautiful instrument was used only as an accom- 
paniment for songs. 

All nations, both savage and enlightened, use 
the drum, and the forms of this instrument are 
countless. Hindoo and Siamese drums are 
very pretty. The Hindoos have a small drum 
that is made of wood bound with strips of skin, 
and painted with rings of bright color. The 
taphone, or hand-drum, of the Siamese is beaten 
with the fingers instead of sticks. It is a very 
gay bright red drum covered with gilt figures, 
and is used as a tripping accompaniment to 
melodies played by flutes and guitars. 

The mokugyo is a very odd drum which was 
used in ancient Buddhist temples. The name 
signifies a wooden fish. It is not in the form 
of a fish, unless it might be supposed to repre- 
sent the head of a shark with mouth gaping 
for prey, but the scaly forms of two fishes are a 
part of the gilded decoration. This drum is 
bright red, ornamented with black and gold. 
It hung in the temple, and the Buddhist priests 
beat upon it when reciting their prayers. 

Drums and pipes are the most simple form of 
musical instruments, and as they can be played 
upon easily they are always favorites with wild 
and wandering tribes. In Palestine the double 
pipe and the parabukkeh, or hand-drum, are 
still in use, although they belong to ancient 
times. At weddings and other festal gatherings 
the musicians whistle little melodies on the 
pipes, tap an accompaniment with their fingers 
upon the parabukkeh, which is made of pottery 
covered with skin, beat tambourines, and clap 
their hands in concert for hours and hours to- 
gether without a sign of weariness. 

One of the oldest and rudest of stringed in- 
struments is an ancient specimen from Nubia, 
called kissar. It looks like the lyre of a cow- 
herd, as it probably was in the days when it 
was played in the tents of wandering nomads in 
the Desert of Sahara, or on the shores of the 
Red Sea. The body is of old brown leather 
stretched over a wooden frame; the two up- 

rights and cross-bar, which form the lyre, are 
sticks, rough as if whittled with a dull knife. 
The only attempt at decoration is a string of 
cowries. The cowries were probably the only 
riches the humble musician possessed, and that 
he tied them to his poor instrument shows that 
it must have been very dear to him. 

There is an Arab stringed-instrument which 
is also very ancient and very rude. It is a kind 
of violin, and was probably played with a bow. 
The neck is a piece of bamboo, and the body, 
which is covered with wrinkled skin, is round 
and irregular, and is bound with cords twisted 
from some variety of coarse vegetable fiber. 
It is hard to imagine that such a rude instru- 
ment could have yielded any sound better than 
a discordant squeak at the touch of the bow. 
Perhaps it did not; but even a squeak may 
have been music to the untutored ears of the 
wild Arab musician. Another Arab instrument, 
which is handsome and has considerable Moor- 
ish richness of decoration, is a violoncello. The 
body is a plain wooden frame covered with 
skin, but the neck is black and studded all over 
with little round disks of mother-of-pearl, which 
glisten and change color like beautiful eyes. 
The Arabs are a very musical and poetic peo- 
ple, and many of their songs are full of tender 
and sweet feeling, in strange contrast to their 
wild, savage life. 

Captain Burton, the African traveler, says 
that music among the wild tribes of Central 
Africa is only a monotonous combination of 
sounds. The natives have an ear for time and 
tune, but they cannot produce anything which 
sounds like music to civilized ears. 

Among their instruments there is a little hol- 
low box, upon which five elastic strips of wood 
are fastened in the center to a raised bar. 
These wooden keys are set in vibration by the 
thumb and strike the top of the box, which acts 
as a sounding-board — click — click — clickety 
click ! keeping time to a humdrum song. 

A small two-string African banjo has a very 
pretty body of tortoise-shell, covered with de- 
signs, the largest of which is evidently intended 
for an ostrich, although it looks more like a 
turkey. There is not much music in this banjo, 
as the strings are capable of only a few notes, 
and give those with a faint tinkling sound. 




The African violin has a single hair-string, 
which gives but six notes. The instrument it- 
self must have been very beautiful and costly 
to savage eyes. The back of the body is 
round and covered with dark cloth, which is 
decorated with coarse embroidery, brass nail- 
heads, and cowries, while great bunches of 
cowries are fastened to the bow and to the 
neck and body of the violin. Cowries are the 
money of these simple savages, and the instru- 
ment must have been of great value to its 
owner in the African wilderness. He was 
probably the chief or the rich man of his tribe. 

The North American Indians have an intense 
love of music. Their native songs are plaintive 

This rattle is painted in bright colors. The 
body of the bird is blue and black, and the 
imp is bright red, with blue rings around its 
eyes, which give it a very wicked leer. The 
kah-to-to-hay rattle of the Dakota Indians, bet- 
ter known as the Sioux, is prettier. It is a long 
piece of bone with a hanging ornament of fur, 
beads, and feathers, and one sleigh-bell, which 
the Indians probably thought was a musical 
instrument of the white man. This rattle, or 
tapper, is played by tapping it upon the blade 
of a tomahawk, or some other hard surface 
that will give a ringing or tinkling sound when 

The wakan-chan-cha-gha , also of the Dakota 

and often very sweet in feeling. They tell the 
whole story of their life in song; they sing of 
love, of the valor of the warrior, and of the 
happy hunting-ground where they believe their 
departed braves are wandering. Music is a 
part of every ceremony, and musical instruments 
are found in every wigwam. These instruments 
are not as beautiful as the Indian music, for the 
barbaric love of grotesque figures and bright 
colors leads to hideous productions. 

Indians are fond of rattles, which they fill 
with coarse gravel and use as an accompani- 
ment to their songs. As the Indian ear for 
time is excellent, the effect is much more 
pleasing than one would think. The Haida 
Indians of British Columbia make a rattle in 
the form of a bird with an imp on its back. 

Indians, is the drum of the medicine-man, who 
is supposed to possess mysterious healing power 
and supernatural wisdom. The medicine-man 
is always present upon all great occasions, and 
he takes part in all religious ceremonies, bang- 
ing upon his drum to scare away demons. The 
drum is ugly enough to frighten the demons, 
even if it did not make any noise. The skin, 
stretched over a wooden frame, is colored 
bright yellow, and the figure of a beast, which 
looks like the cat that little boys and girls draw 
upon their slates, is drawn with heavy black 
lines. The Indians think that this figure has 
a deep and mysterious meaning. 

These rattles, together with flutes and whis- 
tles and drums of all descriptions, make up the 
wild Indian orchestra. 




Hindoo £>r"- m - 

The Aztecs, who inhabited Mexico when 
Cortez and his Spanish army landed on the 
shores of that country in the early days of 
the sixteenth century, were in many ways an 
enlightened nation. It is true that their reli- 
gion was horrible. They worshiped hideous 
stone idols, and had human sacrifices in their 
temples, which were great mounds with wind- 
ing stairs going round and round the sides to 
the top. Apart from these heathenish and 
cruel practices, the Aztecs had very good laws. 
They had colleges where boys and girls were 
taught many useful arts ; they were an agri- 
cultural people ; they had extensive market- 
places ; and their family life was simple and 
well ordered. 

They had beautiful festivals in honor of a 
floral goddess, when they decorated their 
houses and their temples with wreaths, and 
had processions with young girls carrying great 
baskets of flowers. There was one festival 
when, for days before the time, priests went 
about the streets playing on little clay flutes. 

Idols and 
flutes and many 
other interest- 
ing relics are 
found in the 
earth in Mexi- 
co, where they 
have been buried 
for hundreds of 
years. The old clay 
flute which appears 
in the headpiece to 
this paper was found 
a few years ago by 
an Indian, who was 
plowing in a field 
near the foot of the 
great Mexican vol- 
cano, Popocatepetl. 
It represents a laugh- 
ing imp with his arms 
akimbo. There are 
four round holes in 
his body which, when 
played upon with the 
fingers, still give very 
distinct and clear 
notes as the player 
blows through the 
imp's head. 

}ru.m used! in 

-]a> tEmbtes, 


tr»^tf urn civ 

(Lnd drum) of" be 

Vol. XXI.— 75- 



| May, 

It is a great contrast to turn from the wild, 
plaintive melodies of American Indians to the 
tide of romantic song that swept over Southern 
Europe in the Middle Ages, when troubadours 
wandered through the rose-bowers of Provence 
playing sweet melodies on the guitar, and brave 
knights came home from the crusades bringing 
with them the lute to make soft music in the 
banquet-hall and in the boudoirs of fair ladies. 

The lute is supposed to be originally a Per- 

sian instrument, and it was 
during the Middle Ages that 
it was first known in Europe, 
where it became a great fa- 
vorite. Poets sang its praises ; 
Shakspere puts lutes in the hands 
of many of his heroines. 

This beautiful instrument is now out WcJ^.an-cri & n-ch^-g,W. 
of use, and all the specimens in exis- Dakota. Inck&ns-. 

tence are very old. The difference be- 
tween the lute and the guitar is principally in 
the body, which in the lute is pear-shaped. 
This made it a very delicate instrument and 
troublesome to keep in order, as the pecu- 

as a lute-player was called, declared that it cost 
him as much to keep his lute as it would to 
keep a horse. It is no wonder that lutes went 
out of use. In "Evelyn's Diary" it is stated 
that lutes of that period were made mostly in 
Germany, and that they were very costly. An 
old lute of rich, mellow tone would sometimes 
be valued as high as one hundred pounds. 

The mandolin is similar in shape to the 
lute, but it is a very much smaller instrument. 
It has been a favorite in 
Italy and Spain for cen- 
turies, and it is now very 
popular in America. It 
is a beautiful little instru- 
ment. The strings are 
in pairs, and are played 
with a plectrum of tor- 
toise-shell, whalebone, or 
ostrich-quill, held in the 
right hand. 

The hurdy-gurdy, or 
vielle, belongs to peasant 
life, and in the beautiful 
opera of" Linda di Cha- 
mouni," Donizetti intro- 
duced it as an accom- 
paniment to Savoyard 
songs. It does not make 
very sweet music, and the 
first name is said to be 
given to it in imitation of 
the grinding and grating 
sound which is a cross 
between those of a hand- 
organ and a bagpipe. 

In the last century the 
hurdy-gurdy was very 
popular in France, and 
when Marie Antoinette, the unfortunate queen 
of Louis XVI., and the ladies of her court 
dressed in the costume of peasant girls and 
played games, grinding the hurdy-gurdy was 
a part of their sport. Beautiful instruments 

liar shape made the wood warp and crack. 

An English writer, early in the seventeenth were made in Paris at that time, richly inlaid 

century, recommends that the lute be kept with ebony and ivory, and with heads carved 

in a bed covered up from the air, when 
not in use, and he says that with very good 
luck the body will not need to be repaired more 
than once a year; and a famous French lutenist, 

to represent knights and cavaliers. 

The strings of the hurdy-gurdy are set in 
vibration by a wooden wheel, which is rosined 
and acts like the bow of a violin. The wheel 




is turned by a handle, at the lower end of the arms and perching on his shoulders, or hiding 
bod)', which the player whirls around with his in his pockets and peeping cunningly out with 
right hand, while with the fingers of the left he their little red eyes. The mice are very tame, 

and sometimes they are 
trained to do pretty 

Wherever Spanish is 
spoken there will be 
found the guitar. Al- 
though it is a favorite 
instrument with all na- 
tions, it belongstoSpain, 
and always reminds one 
of dark-eyed lads and 
lasses, with guitars and 
tambourines and cas- 
tanets, dancing among 
the orange-groves and 
vineyards and olive- 
trees of sunny Anda- 

r^, irc^n.^ klsia _ j t j g said that 

/■[. the guitar was brought 

to Spain by the Moors, 
about a thousand 
years ago. Old guitars of the seventeenth cen- 
tury are beautifully inlaid with ivory, tortoise- 
shell, ebony, and mother-of-pearl. 

Of beautiful old musical instruments there is 
no end, and wherever one is found it has a 
charming story to tell — be it a harp pictured in 
ancient Egyptian wall-painting, or the dainty 
harpsichord at which little Nelly Custis spent so 
many hours, that still stands in the old mansion 
at Mount Vernon. 

presses the little ivory keys which make the 
different notes. This instrument is never heard 
now except in the hands of street musicians. 
In the cities and towns of England, Italian boys 
go about the streets with a hurdy-gurdy and 
a cage of white mice. While one boy grinds 
away at the instrument, the other boy opens 
the cage, which he carries by straps hung over 
his shoulder, and the little white mice scamper 
out and clamber all over him, running up his 


By Malcolm Douglas. 


A Banbury tailor once wrote a soncj, 
Which he'd Sing, cross -leoged, the whole day long, 
li everyone liked it , he said , like me', 
What a famous 1/9 of a man Id be .' 




ij Q Q Q Q 

ijVSaid a little poet lay/no down his rhyming" 
t e dictionary 

J\re verses difficult lb maKe ? Oh ,yes, indeed 

they re very . 
1 "Wonder where I IJ ever Jind a word to "rhyme 

with lattice ; 
On, now I wish the plural of tomato was 
\Jj ^ ^ tomatis ' 


By Charles Henry Webb. 

Booted and cloaked and gray-mustached " Nay, — since I soon again must ride, — 
Through the night and the rain a soldier In the castle-court, untethered, untied, 

splashed ; Till his master come, let the black steed 

At his heel as he rode a great sword clashed. bide. 

" Now, halt, I say ! " came the warder's hail ; " And for meat and wine, may the saints 
" Who rides thus late through the King's preserve 

entail ? 
Halt ! or I pierce thy shirt of mail ! " 

And his cross-bow, fashioned of toughest 

Creaked as the hempen string he drew, 
And a quarrel* placed and leveled true. 

Clear and ready the answer came, 
And a hand that might the lily shame 
Held up a jewel that shone like flame. 

" Ye stay not the rider who beareth the ring 
To which bolts are unslipped and gates 

wide swing — 
He must needs ride late who rides for the 


■' In the castle-court ye have builded high 
A gallows for one who in chains doth lie : 
I would see the prisoner ere he die." 

" Enter, Sir Knight, in the name of the 
Meat and wine shall the servitors bring, 
And to thy black steed give sheltering." 

That ever a Knight from his duty swerve — 
They fast, not feast, who the King would 

Of the stout men-at-arms, some watch, some 

sleep ; 
Drowsy the warders who guard the keep; 
And the Knight is shown to the dungeon 


Patiently waiting his master's commands, 
But brooking no touch of varlet hands, 
The black steed stood as a statue stands. 

And grim stood the gallows, its somber 

A roost for the ravens that croaked to the 

Awaiting the prey that should come with 

the light. 

No star swung its silver cresset on high 
To lighten a path for the moon in the 

sky — 
But the bell of the castle told morning was 


' The bolt or arrow of a cross-bow. 




Then the great oaken door creaked again " Witch or not," he said, " so true was the 

in its frame, ring, 

And forth from the portal the strange Knight 

came — 
The jewel he bore lit the dark like a 


Scarce the black steed can neigh his mas- 
ter to greet, 

Ere the Knight has sprung to the saddle- 
seat, — 

And away, away, like an arrow fleet ! 

The warder sleepily rubbing his eyes 
Bethinks him the stranger has grown in 

: Now halt ! " he shouts, " or a quarrel flies ! " 

A higher than I must ye hither bring; 
This gramary* nearly concerneth the King." 

When the King came riding with trappings 
of gold, 

And pennons and banners of purple un- 
rolled — 

A king was a king in the days of old — 

And they brought from the dungeon a lady 

Instead of the Knight whom they 'd prisoned 

And hoped to have hanged in the morning 


Small need of spur for the black steed's sides ; 
He feels the hand and he knows who rides; 
Belike knows too that a life betides. 

Quoth the warder, " To force we must 

then appeal. 
Those who cannot hear perchance may feel ; 
Sooth, I '11 tickle his ribs with a bolt of 

steel ! " 

Right loudly he laughed in merriest glee ; 
And " Zooks ! " (that 's " Good Gracious ! ") 
" Zooks ! " cried he, 
" Instead of Sir Richard ye 've Lady Lee ! 

" Faith, never before from dungeon bare 
Have ye haled me a traitor so passing fair 
As the one now enchained in her own golden 

But no answer came to the warder's hail 
Save of hoofs a clatter blown back by the 
gale ; 

" But a few days gone, it can scarce be three, 
We mind," said the King (they always say 

And the bolt glanced aside from the shirt "This dame to us knelt with a wifely plea, 
of mail. 

" Though her husband, she knew, had harried 
the glen 
And swept like a besom the hilltops, what 

At heart he was one of the best of men. 

On the uppermost walls now torches are 

shown ; 
There is rattle of drums, and trumpets are 

And doors are locked — but the horse is 


The dungeon they search — to find not there 
A knight close bound, but a lady fair; 
And her only chains were her golden hair. 

To the lord of the castle then they go : 
" Shall we light a fire of pitch and tow, 
And burn the witch who hath cheated us 

; And would we once more Sir Richard re- 
His raids on our outlying lands should 

cease ; 
And they both would pray for the kingdom's 

: Refusing Sir Richard to pardon or spare, 
We soon thereafter were made aware 
That the royal jewelry needed repair. 

* Witchcraft, or magic. 





" And the ring ye have seen we confided free 
To a stripling, comely enough to see, 
Who said that the jeweler's son was he. 

" Now the riddle is read, for the jeweler's son, 
And the Knight who rode till his errand was 

And the witch and the Lady Lee are one. 

" Sir Richard our patience has sorely tried, 
And yon stands the grim steed we meant 

he should ride; 
But our royal mercy be now published wide : 

" Since he must by this o'er the border be, 
And beyond our reach — e'en let him go free ; 
And thou mayst rejoin him, good Lady Lee!" 

,1.1/0 M 

"•'■ \ 



{Fifth paper of tlie series, "Quadrupeds of North America.") 

By W. T. Hornaday. 

Only a few short years ago the fur-bearing 
animals of North America were so common 
that people wore only the choicest and finest 
furs. Ladies would no more have worn bear- 
skins then than horse-hide now. Lynx-skins 
had little value and were seldom worn, and 
only the finest of the foxes yielded skins con- 
sidered desirable. 

Now, however, all that is changed, and the 
motto seems to be, " Everything is fur that 
wears hair." Black bearskin furs are worth 
from $50.00 to $100.00 a set. Lynxes and 
foxes of every description are sought ; and it is 
positively amusing to think how many thou- 
sand skunks die annually in this country in 
order that the fashionable may wear " Alaska 
Sable " and " Black Marten." Even poor lit- 
tle, once despised, Br'er Rabbit of the brush- 
pile is called upon to contribute his coat to the 
furrier, and tens of thousands of European hare- 
skins are dyed, and sheared, and made into an 
excellent imitation of fur seal ! And why not ? 
The bodies being eaten, it is far better to use 
the skins than to waste them, as heretofore. 

The special object of this meeting is to intro- 
duce to your acquaintance certain members of 
the Marten Family, called the Mus-tel'i-dtz. 
It is an old and very aristocratic family, and 
for hundreds of years past some of its members 
have always been on the most intimate terms 
with the leaders of rank and fashion through- 
out the earth. They have added luster to the 
courts of kings, the learning of judges, and the 
beauty of woman. The different members of 
the family take turns in being the favorite of 
the hour, according to the direction in which 
that fickle and giddy girl, Fashion, bestows her 
smile, — and also according to which species 
can best supply the fur market. 

Just at present the Sea Otter is the favor- 
ite of the millionairess, and 
his fur is the costliest in the 

sea otter. 

{En'hy-dris lu'tris.) 

world. I wonder if any of 

the wearers of this beautiful fur — so costly that 
the price of one set would feed a hungry fam- 
ily for two whole years — ever stop to find out 
how the first wearer was born on a bed of 
kelp, floating out in the open sea, on the icy- 
cold waters of the Pacific, and literally " rocked 
in the cradle of the deep " ; how he was brought 
up on the heaving billows, and, when bedtime 
came, found a soft resting-place on his mo- 
ther's breast, while she floated upon her back 
and clasped him with her paws as he slept ; 
how the only land he ever knew was the 
rugged, rock-bound shores of Alaska or Wash- 
ington. Now and then, when the ocean was 
very rough, and before the hunters were so 
bad, he usedto crawl out upon a rock and lie 
there, while the roar of the breakers boomed 
in his ears and the spray dashed over him in 
torrents. But then, it is probable that not one 
woman out of every five hundred takes the 
trouble to learn the life history of the creature 
whose furry coat she wears. 

The Sea Otter is the largest of the Marten 
Family, and is very unlike the animal after 
which the family is named. It has a thick, 
clumsy body, which, with the round, blunt head, 
is from three and a half to four feet in length. 
Unlike those of all other Otters, the tail is short 
and stumpy, being about one fifth the length of 
the head and body. As if to increase its value, 
and hasten its destruction, the skin is much 
larger than the body, like a misfit coat, and lies 
loosely upon it in many folds. For this reason 
the stretched pelt is always much wider and 
longer than the animal that wore it. 

The coat of the full-grown Sea Otter is very 
dense, very fine, and its color is shimmering, lus- 
trous black. Ever since the earliest discovery 
of the Sea Otter by the Russians, its fur has 
been eagerly sought by them, and the cash 
prices of skins have always been so high that 
there is not, in the whole United States, a 
museum rich enough to afford a good series 



of specimens. Mr. Charles H. Townsend, the 
naturalist of the United States Fish Commis- 
sion, writes me that in 1891 the price of the 
best skins had reached $400 each, and their 
value has been since increasing. On the north- 
west coast of the State of Washington, where 
Sea Otters are still found along a thirty-mile 
strip of coast (from Gray's Harbor, half-way to 
Cape Flattery), they are shot by hunters from 
tall " derricks " from thirty to forty feet high, 
erected in the surf half-way between high tide 

annual catch made on the south shore of the Aleutian Isl- 
ands was generally over 600. Ten years ago it had fallen 
to 200, and last year only tzoo were taken in the whole ar- 
chipelago. Once abundant at the Pribyloffs, it has now 
entirely disappeared. A similar decrease has taken place 
in the region of the Alaska Peninsula, always the center 
of the Sea Otter's habitat as regards abundance. The 
adoption of firearms for the old-time spears has contrib- 
uted to make this naturally wary animal the wildest of 
wild creatures. With a skin worth from $100 to $500, it 
has no respite from persecution. 

Last year I knew of about twenty-five schooners, each 
carrying several natives and their boats, engaged in Otter- 

and low tide, and the hunter who kills four 
Otters in a year considers his work successful. 
Owing to the persistent hunting that has 
been going on ever since Alaska came into our 
possession, the Sea Otter is rapidly following 
the buffalo to the State of Extermination. On 
this point, the following letter from Mr. Town- 
send is interesting : 

The diminution of the Sea Otter began with the Ameri- 
can occupation of the country, since which time it has 
steadily decreased in numbers. Twenty years ago the 
Vol. XXI.— 76. 

hunting. Four of these vessels were very successful, 
taking in all 377 Otters. I believe there were not more 
than a thousand Otters taken in all Alaska during the 
season of 1891 ; but it is only a few years since a much 
smaller fleet could get 5000 or 6000 Otters. 

The Sea Otter is a much more important animal to the 
natives than the fur seal, the entire population along 
nearly 2000 miles of coast-line being dependent on the 
Otter-hunting industry for a living. 

The Government is now commencing to place restric- 
tions on Otter-hunting, and the species may yet be saved. 
My own recommendations have been to restrict white 
hunters only, and let the native hunters severely alone. 




The favorite food of the Sea Otter is not fish, 
as one might suppose from the habits of the 
common Otter, but clams, crabs, mussels, and 
sea-urchins. Its molar teeth are of necessity 
very strong, for the grinding up of this rough 
fare, and the muscles of the jaws are propor- 
tionately powerful. 

the north American is an old favorite, and 

otter so well known by 

{Lu'tra Can-a-detids) reason of his superb, 

glossy, dark-brown fur, that his life has always 

been eagerly sought by hunters and trappers. 


Like all our older fur-bearers, the species has 
been so persecuted and hunted down that to 
the present generation it is almost a stranger 
once more. In the southern States, where, on 
account of the warm climate, its fur is so poor 
as to be of little value, it still exists, but it is 
nowhere abundant in the United States. Now 
and then a solitary specimen is taken in South 
Carolina, Delaware, Massachusetts, or Vermont, 
or in the mountains of the West. In New 
Brunswick and British Columbia they are more 
common, and, following the timbered country, 
they range northward until they occupy the en- 
tire mainland of Alaska south of latitude 68 de- 
grees. Although we cannot pause here to speak 
at length of the aquatic habits and fish-diet of 
the Otter, his tameness, and even affection, in 
captivity, and his interesting family of two or 
three children in a hollow stump, we cannot, as 
boys and girls, ignore his sportive disposition, 
and the grand fun he has sliding down-hill ! 

I wonder how many American boys know 
that the Otter loves coasting just as much as 
any school-boy, will work for it just as hard, 
and keep it up quite as long, if only let alone. 
Well, this is all true, at all events; and he even 

beats the boys at their own game, for he not 
only goes tobogganing on his stomach down 
steep hillsides covered with snow or ice, in the 
north, but in the south, where there is no snow, 
he changes to a steep bank coated with nice,, 
slippery mud, and goes merrily on with his 
coasting. It is true he gets his coat muddy in 
going down, but the plunge into the water at 
the bottom of the slide quickly washes it clean 
again. I have never seen Otters playing this- 
game, but persons who have watched them at 
it unobserved say they seem to enjoy the fun as. 
well as any school-boys, and will go over the 
course most industriously fifteen or twenty times 
before stopping to rest. The fur of the Otter is 
still fairly common, and in regular demand. 

the wolverine, is better known as 

carcajou, or glutton being the trapper's 
{Gu'io lu/cxs) Evil Genius than for 

the value or beauty of his own fur. He is 
the greatest thief and the most cunning villain 
in our whole mammalian fauna, and mountains 
of hard words have been heaped upon his- 
ugly head. In fighting-weight he is about the 
size of a setter-dog, but in form he may best 
be described as a cross between a badger and a 
bear. He has the head, legs, feet, and tail of a 
badger, and a bear-like body. In Wyoming he is 
called the Skunk Bear, not a bad name; but 
the Indians of northern Washington go a little 
farther and call him the Mountain Devil. 

I never saw but one live Wolverine, and that 
was a fine specimen caught in the Yellowstone 
Park and now in the National Zoological Park 
at Washington. He is very badger-like in tem- 
per and disposition, sullen and vicious, always 
crouching in the farthest corner of his cage, 
growling away down in his throat, and showing 
a formidable set of teeth whenever looked at. 
The portrait of him on the next page shows his 
form and appearance so well it is only neces- 
sary for me to add a few words of description. 

The length of his head and body is about 
thirty inches, and tail about twelve inches. I 
say " about," because he asked to be excused 
from being measured, and I excused him ! In 
general appearance, the Wolverine is a very 
stoutly built, long-haired, and dark-colored 
animal, with his colors in about four values, 
as an artist would express it. His head and 

is 9 4-: 



shoulders are chestnut-brown, the back is al- 
most black, while the legs and feet are jet- 
black, and the claws white. A very curious 
and conspicuous light marking is the dirty yel- 
low coloring of the thigh. The fur of this 
animal is not very fine, and is chiefly desirable 
for use in robes and rugs. Although it is com- 
paratively abundant in the fur market, there is 
no special demand for it. 

The most interesting thing about the Wol- 
verine is the total depravity of his character; 
we cannot say moral character, for apparently 
he never had any. Wher- 
ever found he is the king 
of thieves. He delights 
in following up a line 
of marten-traps several 
miles long, and not only 
stealing the bait, which 
his satanic ingenuity 
nearly always enables 
him to do without get- 
ting caught, but also de- 
vouring every marten 
that he finds already 
trapped. He makes a 
specialty of finding and 
breaking open the caches 
of meat trappers store 
up in the fall for winter 
use; and what he can 
neither eat on the spot, 
nor carry away and bury 
under the snow, he paws 
over and soils so effec- 
tually that even the hun- 
griest man cannot eat it. 
The Washington readers 
•of St. Nicholas will rec- 
ognize in him a verita- 
ble " Jack the Slasher " 
among quadrupeds. 

In stealing, his indus- 
try is boundless. He of- 
ten enters a settler's cabin when the owner is 
away, eats everything eatable, destroys a good 
share, and then carries away everything port- 
able, hiding his booty in the snow or in the 
earth. He even takes articles that he cannot 
possibly use, such as tin pans, clothing, belts, 

and steel traps ; and more than once he has 
been known to strip a cabin of almost every- 
thing it contained. As an agreeable neighbor 
in the forest he is a complete failure. For- 
tunately he belongs more to the northern por- 
tion of the continent than elsewhere, and is 
now rarely taken in the United States. 

The largest group of the Marten Family is 
that containing the skunks, big, medium, and 
little. For years we contentedly acknowledged 
the claims of five species for all North America; 
but recently Dr. C. H. Merriam has been in- 


vestigating the little striped skunks of the 
Southwest, and in 1890 he announced eight new 
species of the genus Spilogalc at one fell swoop! 
Add to these two more new species, and instead 
of five species only we are now obliged to con- 
fess ownership to fifteen species, and all bad. 




Just what we Americans have done to earn 

this additional disgrace, I am puzzled to guess. 
It is not necessary to bring forward all our 

skunks at once, for one is enough to satisfy 
common skunk, most people. The Common 
(Mc-phi'tis me-phit' i-ca.) Skunk will serve well as the 

type of his subfamily. To me he seems the 


meanest and wickedest-looking animal for his 
size that I ever saw. Instead of having a head 
shaped like those of other mammals, his is coni- 
cal, like the end of a half-burned stick. His 
jet-black color, which is intensified by his pure 
white markings, and his snake-like, glittering 
black eyes, make him look a veritable imp 
from the Bad Place. His big, bushy tail he 
carries erect over his back, defiantly and threat- 
eningly, like the black banner of a bloody pirate. 
Knowing well the power that lies in his abomin- 
able scent- glands, he is bold and aggressive, 
and able to put any unarmed adversary to 
flight. He is a black-and-white terror, and al- 


though every man's hand is against him, the 
lynxes and wolves and eagles know enough 
about natural history to let him severely alone. 

But even the Skunk has his uses. He now 
furnishes a great quantity of good fur, and he 
also renders some service to the farmer in the 
destruction of harmful insects and their larvae. 

When I was a small boy I once had a thrill- 
ing encounter with a monster Skunk on a bare 
Iowa prairie, two miles from a gun. He was 
armed, as usual ; I was not, and he held me at 
bay for half an hour, snarling and growling 
viciously, stamping with his fore feet and sud- 
denly rushing forward now and then as if to 
devour me — which always caused me to fall 
back in good order. He might have held me 
there until now, in perfect safety to himself, 
had not my big brother arrived with a gun; 
for clubs are not trumps when you are fighting 
Skunks, unless you have a dog. 

The fetid fluid which is the Skunk's great 
weapon of defense, has not only the most pow- 
erful and offensive odor in the world, but it is 
said to be poisonous, and to burn the flesh like 
an acid. But it is not even that which is the 
most dangerous feature of this little animal. 
The bite of the Skunk often produces hydro- 
phobia, and death to man. It is even claimed 
by some medical authorities that, in this coun- 
try at least, madness in dogs is due to this 
same cause. Be that as it may, it is an undis- 
puted fact that in the southwestern States and 
Territories, where Skunks are numerous, and it 
is a common thing for men to sleep on the 
ground, at least two or three scores of persons 
have died of hydrophobia as the result of 

In order to get even a glimpse of the re- 
mainder of the Marten Family, we shall have 
to make the remainder of this reception strictly 
official, and conduct it on the lines laid down 
by American presidents and governors: — a 
slowly moving procession, brief introduction, 
searching glance, momentary grasp — and exit. 

At the head of his family comes the 

pine marten, or He looks very much like a 

American sable, young red fox, and if you 

(Mus-uia Amcr-i-caria.) w jn p U t upon his body the 

head of a quarter-grown Vulpes fulvus, you will 

have an animal that will pass as a young red fox 

i8 94 -J 



in almost any crowd. His general color is brown- 
ish yellow, but the legs and tail are two or three 
shades darker than the body. He is about as 
heavy as an ordinary domestic cat, but longer, 
fairly large specimens measuring about seven- 
teen to eighteen inches from nose to tail, and 
about eleven inches in length of tail, including 
the long hair at the tip. His furry coat is long, 
fine, and abundant, and nature has generously 
given him three kinds of hair. He is an arbo- 
real and timber-loving animal, very rarely found 
on the prairies, or the great Barren Grounds, 
and is most abundant on rugged and rocky 
forest-clad mountains. Unlike the Skunk, he 
does not cling to settled regions and become 



(Alus-te la Pen' nant-i) , 

a depraved poultry-thief, but lives in his own 
woods, by honest hunting, on small rodents, an 
occasional reptile, a bird, or a nestful of eggs. 
His fur is common, and is extensively used. 

also called Pekan or 
Pennant's Marten, is 
about two and a half 
times the size of the pine marten, but his shape 
is very much the same. He starts in at his 
head to be of a beautiful iron-gray color, an 
even mixture of black and white, but as the 
colors go farther back, the black gradually gets 
the best of it. By the time the tail is reached 
the white has quite given up in despair, and 
retired from view. Tail, legs, and feet are very 
dark brown, and the name Black Cat is very 
appropriate as to color. In bulk this animal 
is about as large as a gray fox, but it has the 
short legs and rounded head characteristic of 
all the members of the Marten Family. Its 
average length of head and body is about 
thirty inches, and the tail about seventeen 
inches, including the tip. Its habits are very 
similar to those of the pine marten, and its 


home extends from North Carolina and Ten- 
nessee northward through the timbered re- 
gions to the Great Slave Lake, westward to 
Oregon, and up the Pacific Coast to the Yukon 
River. His fur is not very common, and there 
is no special demand for it. 

Of our seven Weasel species, we can only- 
glance at the Common Weasel, Stoat, or 
common weasel. Ermine, also called the 

(Pu-ttiri-m cr-min'c-a.) ReGAL ERMINE, the mOSt 

snake-like of all quadrupeds; white in winter 
and brown in summer, inhabiting three fourths 
of the North American continent, and known 
to nearly everybody. His fur is now common 


once more, and in special demand. Next to 
him comes an animal known to nobody save 
a few naturalists and plainsmen — the mink- 





this animal is commonly called 
the Prairie-dog Hunter, be- 
cause of his fondness for thai 
jolly little marmot. He is nearly 
always found in the towns of the 

the mink needs no intro- 
iPn-to'ri-us vi sou) duction, for he 
inhabits the whole continent, is 
at home everywhere, and, like a 


like Black-footed Ferret, a handsome crea- 
ture, for many years known to science only by 
Audubon's figure and description of a single 
specimen that once came into his possession 
and then was lost. Owing to the complete 
absence of specimens, the great Audubon was 
by some persons actually suspected (so says Dr. 
Coues) of having invented the species as an 
embellishment to his work! But Dr. Coues 
presently called the press to the rescue, and by 
its instrumentality several specimens were soon 
obtained. Its presence was proved in Kansas, 
Colorado, Wyoming, and Montana ; and in 
1S89 one of the first specimens received by the 
National Zoological Park was a fine living ex- 
ample of this species, which was duly studied, 
and photographed repeatedly. In the West 


village postmaster, knows everybody. In for- 
mer years the demand for his beautiful fur very 
nearly led to his extermination, but when his fur 
" went out of fashion " (because there was no 
more of it), he had a good long rest of about 
twenty years, during which time his numbers 




quietly increased until the insatiable furrier once 
more attacked him, and made his fur " fashion- 
able " again. His beautiful brown fur is now 
quite common, and is extensively used. 

the badger is tne l ast in the line, and 

(Tax-id'ca Amer-i-catila) he IS Such a Slirly and 

stupid beast he deserves to be. Of the many 


animals I have kept and handled in captivity, 
the Badger is the only one which seemed to 
possess no sense whatever. No other animal 
ever tried my patience so sorely. He is a 
shapeless beast, as if sat upon all his life, al- 


most as broad as he is long, strong in muscle, 
jaw, and odor ; and, when at home in the 
Great Plains region, an unmitigated terror to 
the prairie-dog. I have seen his burrows in 
the center of a forty-mile desert, which even a 
hawk could not cross without carrying his ra- 
tions with him; and how a Badger could pos- 
sibly find enough game to keep him from 
starving, where nothing else lived save a few 
tiny mice, was a puzzle to me — and I hand 
it over to you for solution. 

The fur of the Badger is common enough, 
but as yet not in demand with fur-wearers. 


By Dr. Charles Alexander Eastman. 


I was scarcely old enough to know anything 
definite about the " Big Knives," as we called 
the white men, when the terrible Minnesota 
massacre occurred, and I was carried into 
British Columbia. I have already told how I 
was adopted into the family of my father's 
younger brother, when my father was betrayed 
and imprisoned. We all supposed that he had 
shared the fate of those who were executed at 
Mankato, Minnesota. Now, the savage philo- 
sophers looked upon vengeance in the field 
of battle as a lofty virtue. To avenge the 
death of a relative or of a dear friend was con- 
sidered a great deed. My uncle, accordingly, 
had spared no pains to instil into my young 
mind the obligation to avenge the death of my 
father and my brothers. Already I looked 
eagerly forward to the day when I should find 
an opportunity to carry out his teachings. 


Meanwhile, he himself went upon the war- 
path and returned with scalps every summer. 




So it may be imagined how I felt toward the 
Big Knives. On the other hand, I had heard 
wonderful things of this people. A race whose 
power bordered upon the supernatural, they 


were almost wakan (mysterious). I learned that 
they had made a " Fire-Boat." I could not 
understand how they could convert fire into a 
boat, and thus unite two elements which cannot 

exist together. I thought the water would put 
out the fire and the fire would consume the boat, 
if it had a shadow of a chance ! This was to me 
a preposterous thing. But when I was told that 
the Big Knives had 
created a "Fire-Boat- 
Walks-on-Mountains " 
(a train), it was too 
much to believe. 

" Why," said my in- 
formant, " those who 
saw this monster move 
said that it flew oc- 
casionally from moun- 
tain to mountain, when 
it seemed to be excited. 
They also said that they 
believed it carried a 
thunder-bird, for he fre- 
quently gave his usual 
war-whoop as he was 
swiftly borne along." 

Several warriors had 
seen, at a distance, one 
of the first trains on the 
Northern Pacific, and 
had gained too great an 
impression of the won- 
ders of the pale-face. 
The}" had seen it go 
over a deep creek ; 
hence they thought it 
jumped from one bank 
to the other. I con- 
fess that the story al- 
most quenched my ar- 
dor and bravery. 

Two or three young 
men were talking to- 
gether about this fear- 
ful invention. " But," 
said one, " I under- 
stand that this Fire- 
Boat -Walks-on - Moun- 
tains cannot move ex- 
cept on its track." 
Although a boy is not expected to join in 
the conversation of his elders, I ventured to 
ask, " Then it cannot chase us into any rough 
country ? " 




" No, it cannot," was the reply, which I 
heard with a great deal of relief. 

I had seen guns, and various other things 
brought to us by the French-Canadians, so that 
I had already some notion of the supernatural 
power of the white men; but I had never 
before heard such tales as I was treated to 
that morning. It was said that they had 
bridged the Missouri and the Mississippi rivers, 

people. They have divided the day into hours, 
like the moons of the year. In fact, they mea- 
sure everything. Not one of them would let 
even a turnip go from his field unless he re- 
ceived equal value for it. I understand that 
their great men make a feast and invite many, 
but when the feast is over the guests are re- 
quired to pay for what they have eaten before 
leaving the house. I myself saw at ' White 

that they made houses of stone and brick, but Cliff' [the name given to St. Paul, Minnesota] 

nothing had eclipsed the story told by Bushy- 
Horn. It puzzled my brain for many a day. 
Finally I asked my uncle why the Great 
Mystery gave such power to the Washichu 
(the rich — sometimes we called them by this 
name), and not to us Dakotas. 

" For the same reason," he answered, " that he 
gave to Duta the skill to make fine bows and ar- 
rows, and toWachisni no skill to make anything." 

"And why do the Big Knives increase much 
more in number than the Dakotas ? " I con- 
tinued to inquire. 

" It has been said, and I am inclined to be- 
lieve it is true, that they have larger families 
than we do. I went into the house of an 
lashicha [a German], and I counted not less 
than nine children. The eldest of them could 
not have been over fifteen. When my grand- 
father first visited them, down at the mouth of 
the Mississippi, they were comparatively few ; 
later my father visited their Great Father at 
Washington, and they had already spread over 
the whole country. 

" Certainly they are a heartless nation. They 
have made some of their people servants — yes, 
slaves ! We never believed in slaves, but it 
seems that these Washichu do. It is our 
belief that they painted their servants black 
a long time ago, to tell them from the rest, 
and now the slaves have children born to them 
of the same color! 

" The greatest object of their lives seems to 
be to acquire possessions — to be rich. They 
are desirous to possess the whole world. For 
thirty years they were trying to entice us to sell 
our land to them. Finally the ' Outbreak ' gave 
them all, and we have been driven away from 
our beautiful country. They are a wonderful 

a man who kept a brass drum and a bell to call 
people to his table ; but when he got them in 
he would make them pay for the food ! 

" I am also informed," said my uncle, " but 
this I hardly believe, that their Great Chief 
[President] makes every man pay him for the 
land he lives upon and all his personal goods 
— even for his own existence — every year! I 
am sure we could not live under such a law. 
When the Outbreak occurred, we thought that 
our opportunity had come, for we had learned 
that the Big Knives were fighting among 
themselves, on account of a dispute over their 
slaves. It was said that the Great Chief had al- 
lowed slaves in one part of the country and not 
in another; so there was jealousy, and they had 
to fight it out. We don't know how true this was. 

" There were some praying-men who came 
to us some time before the trouble arose. They 
observed every seventh day as a holy day. On 
that day they met in a house they had built for 
that purpose, to sing, pray, and speak of their 
Great Mystery. I was never in one of these 
meetings. I understand that they had a large 
book from which they read. By all accounts 
they were very different from all the other white 
men we have known, for these never observed 
any such day, and we never knew them to pray, 
neither did they ever tell us of their Great 

" In war they have leaders and war-chiefs of 
different grades. The common warriors are 
driven forward like a herd of antelopes to face 
the foe. It is on account of this manner of 
fighting — from compulsion and not because 
of personal bravery — that we count no coup 
on them.* A lone warrior can do much harm 
to a large army of them in a bad country." 

In the battle-field there are four counts that can be made for every enemy killed. The first who touches a 
dead enemy on the field has the highest honor, and the next three in order. 
This is called counting the coup or blow. 

Vol. XXL— 77. 




It was this talk with my uncle that gave me 
my first clear idea of the white man. 

I was almost fifteen years old when my uncle 
presented me with a flint-lock gun. The pos- 
session of this weapon had given me new 
thoughts. ■• I am now old enough," thought I 
to myself, " and I must beg my uncle to take 
me with him on his next war-path. I will socn 
be able to go among the white men whenever I 
wish, and to avenge the blood of my father and 
brothers ! " 

One day, when I was away on the daily hunt, 
two strangers from the United States visited our 
camp. They had boldly ventured across the 
northern border. They were Indians, but clad 
in the white man's garments. It was well that 
I with my gun was absent ! 

My father, accompanied by an Indian guide, 
after many days' searching had found us at 
last ! He had been imprisoned at Davenport, 
Iowa, with those who took part in the mas- 
sacre and the battle following, and he was 
taught in prison by the missionaries, Drs. William- 
son and Riggs. When he was released and 
had returned to the reservation on the Mis- 
souri, he became fully convinced that life on 
a government reservation meant nothing but 
physical and moral degradation. Therefore he 
determined, with several others, to try the white 
man's way of gaining a livelihood. So they 
took land, under the United States Home- 
stead Law, on the Big Sioux River. When 
he had settled there, he desired to seek his 
lost child. It was then a dangerous under- 
taking to cross the line, but his Christian love 
prompted him to do it. He had secured a good 
guide, and so found his way through the vast 

As for me, I little dreamed of anything un- 
usual to happen on my return. I carried the 
game on my shoulder, and approached our 
camp. I had not even the slightest expecta- 
tion that I was suddenly to be hurled from 
my savage life into a life unknown to me 
hitherto. When I appeared in sight of the 
camp, my father, who had patiently listened 
to my uncle's long narrative of my training 
and early life, became very much excited. He 
was eager to embrace the child who, as he 
had been informed, made it already the object 

of his life to avenge a father's blood ! The 
loving father could not remain in the tepee 
and watch the boy coming, so he started to 
meet him. My uncle arose to go with his 
brother for his safety. 

My face burned with the unusual excite- 
ment caused by the sight of a man wearing 
the Big Knives' clothing, and coming toward 
me with my uncle. 

" What does this mean, Uncle ? " 

'• My boy, this is your father, my brother, 
whom we mourned as dead. He has come for 

My father added: "I am glad that my son 
is strong and brave. Your brothers have all 
adopted the white man's way; I came for you 
to learn this new way, too, and I want you to 
grow up to be a good man." 

He had brought me some civilized clothing. 
At first I disliked very much to wear garments 
made by the people I had hated so bitterly. 
But the thought that, after all, they had not 
killed my father and brothers reconciled me; 
and I put on the clothes. 

In a few days we started for the States. I 
felt as if I were dead, and traveling to the 
Spirit land; for now all my old ideas were to 
give way to new ones, and my life was to be 
entirely different from that of the past. Still, I 
was eager to see some of the wonderful inven- 
tions of the white people. When we reached 
Fort Totten, I gazed at everything about me 
with lively interest and a quick imagination. 

My father had forgotten to tell me that the 
Fire-Boat-Walks-on-Mountains had its track 
at Jamestown, and might appear at any mo- 
ment. As I was watering the ponies, a pecu- 
liar and tremendous shrilling noise pealed forth 
just beyond the hills. The ponies lifted up 
their heads and listened for a moment; then 
snorting they ran over the prairie. Mean- 
while, I too had taken the alarm, and listened 
with the air of a boy who was badly scared. 
I jumped on the back of one of the ponies, 
and he dashed off at full speed. It was a 
clear day; I could not imagine what had caused 
such an unearthly noise. I thought the world 
was about to burst in two. I got upon a hill 
as the train appeared. "Oh!" I said to my- 
self, " that is the Fire-Boat- Walks-on-Mountains 



that I have heard about ! " Then I drove back 
the ponies. 

My father was accustomed every morning to 
read from his Bible, and sing a stanza of a 
hymn. I was about very early with my gun 
for several mornings ; but at last he stopped me 
as I was about to go out, and bade me wait. I 
listened with much astonishment. The hymn 
contained the word Jesus. I did not compre- 
hend what this meant, and my father then told 

me that Jesus was the Son of God who came 
on earth to save sinners, and that it was be- 
cause of him that he had sought me. This 
conversation made a deep impression upon 
my mind. 

Late in that fall we reached the settlement at 
Flandreau, South Dakota, where my father and 
some others dwelt among the whites. Here 
my wild life came to an end, and my school- 
days began. 


At the Party 

^£utte. Sfy/ssie -■ Qood mdht .' OK, yes, I most forgot ! /lama .Said 
I must be Sure to tell _you i.hai Ive had a very pleasant time . 


By Palmer Cox. 



keeping with the wishes 

The Brownie band had cherished long, 
As shades of evening closed around, 
In haste they sought their meeting-ground. 
No sooner had the roll been called, 
And " here," or " present," each one bawled, 
Than one remarked : " No need have we 
For lengthy talk, or special plea, 
For all are willing, as we know, 
To take the trip on which we go. 
The Empire State before us lies, 
And who that has a heart and eyes, 
Would for one moment hesitate 
To pay respects to such a State ? 
So noted for its mountain land, 
Its lovely bays, and rivers grand, 
Its battle-fields, its brilliant men 
Who carved their names with sword or pen 

Upon the records of 
the race 

That changing years 
cannot efface." 

Another cried: "You 
speak our minds ; 

One chain of thought 
the party binds, 

So let us every hour 
For time is ever on the move." 
They visited Niagara Falls, 
Then lost no time to make their calls 
On Watkins Glen, and ran with glee, 
To stand beside the Genesee ; 
Close to the brink they crawled to peep 
Where Sam Patch took the fearful leap. 
The Adirondacks, heaving blue 
Against the sky, attention drew ; 

The home of fox, of deer, and bear, 
And sheets of water passing fair, 
Where gamy fish in waiting lie, 
To test the angler's y, 

phantom fly. 
At old Ticon- 




6, 3 

They moralized in language light. 
Said one : " That was a grand surprise, 
That history's pages memorize, 
When, starting from his bed in fright, 
The old commander rose that night, 
To gaze on Ethan Allen's band, 
And listen to his blunt command, 
Which had a sort of business ring, 
That spoke small honor for the king." 
Said one : " A cruise we ought to take 
Upon Champlain's bright limpid lake, 
Whereon McDonough brought in 

The British squadron all to grief. 
There, full in sight of Plattsburg town, 
The haughty fleet came sailing down, 
The flag-ship moving in the van, 
According to the naval plan, 

While others ranged diagonally 

To port and starboard formed a V. 

But soon McDonough's broadside broke 

The fine formation, while the smoke 
f Hid from the gaze of those on shore, 
Who gathered at the cannon's roar, 
All sign of ships, save masts alone 
That still o'er battle-clouds were 

And told the watchers full and fair 
Which ships were down or which were 

Another said : " We have n't time ; 
So let us seek that stream sublime 
That first a mountain brooklet leaps, 
Then as a river broadly sweeps, 
Reflecting scenes on either side 
Unequaled in the country wide. 

And as we take our 

seaward way, 
Through Catskill 
Mountains we 
will stray — 


'-^£$te*&^' : 




Up rugged narrow passes creep, 
AVhere Rip Van Winkle took his sleep, 
And woke in wonder 

to find out 
What twenty years 

had brought 


Ofttimes the Brow- 
nies paused to 

The points of in- 
terest, as they 

Indeed, at New- 
burg they made 

To venture in the 
building old 

That is to folk of 

every zone Jj > li{ \ vv^LJ-pr 1, 

As Washington's ifif , , | ". : 
Headquarters «jf- 

Said one : " Though 
many towns are 

With quarters where the chief found rest, 
And sent his couriers to and fro 

1*94- 1 



To watch the actions of the foe, 
This was the last he occupied 
While in the field he stemmed the tide 
Of British arms and British gold, 
That long across the country rolled. 
The patriots here broke ranks, and laid 
Their hands to ax, and plow, and spade, 
And from the long-neglected sod 
Sprang up once more the ear and pod ; 
And children fled no more in fright 
From redcoats' guns or bayo- 
nets bright."- 
At times, the youngsters to 

When on the morrow 
they would 
The Brownies paused 
Or at the crossings 

of the road, 
And on a finger- 
board or wall 
With bits of chalk 
or coal would 
Or in some manner 

letter out J^C^mthu. 

The hint that they had been about. 
Said one, while they with joyful mien 
Surveyed each bright and pleasing scene : 
" Here where between the rich display 
The river widens to the bay, 
Some moments let us check our race 
At Tarrytown to view the place 
Where Major Andre was relieved 







Of his despatch, and greatly grieved 
To find both purse and prayers were naught 
To Paulding, Williams, and Van Wart." 
At length that city drew their eyes, 
That on Manhattan Island lies. 

Said one : " At last, my comrades true 
That famous city comes in view, 
So noted for its wondrous dower 
Of wealth, and influence, and power; 

Its open purse when comes 

the cry 
Of sad distress 

from far or 

nigh ; 
Its millions 

spent to 

spread $$ 

the '< Wj 

In heathen countries dark as night ; 
Museums great, its works of art, 
Its press, and great commercial mart. 
Here might we roam for nights and nights, 
Still meeting new and wondrous sights. 
But hark ! the sound that sweetly falls 
From Trinity's old belfry walls 
Proclaims 't is now the hour of five, 
And soon the town will be alive ; 
So we must quickly turn aside, 
And in some cunning manner hide." 


By Howard Pyle. 

[Begun in the April number.] 

Chapter IV. 


It was evening of the next day. There 
were some little boys off at the end of the 
wharf of Hezekiah Tipton's warehouses. Jack 
went out to where they were. 

A brig had come into the harbor — it lay at 
anchor some distance away. The sails were 
half reefed and hung limp from the yards. They 
were washing down the decks. Jack could see 
the men busy about the decks, and every now 
and then a gush of dirty water as it ran out 
the scupper-holes. A boat was just about put- 
ting off from the brig. Presently some one 
climbed down over the side of the vessel and 
into the boat, and then it was pushed off. It 
came rowing straight to where he and the little 
boys stood. It pulled in around the back of a 
sloop that lay fast to the end of the wharf. 

Jack jumped down from the wharf into the 
sloop and went across the deck. The boat 
had come in under the side of the sloop, and 
the men were holding it fast to the chains. 
They looked up at Jack as he came to the 
rail of the sloop and looked down at them. 
There were two men in the stern of the boat. 
One was just about to climb aboard the sloop. 
He was short and thick-set. He wore a rough 
sea-coat with great flapped pockets and brass 
buttons. One of his pockets bulged with a 
pistol, the brass butt of which stuck out from 
it. He wore dirty petticoat-breeches strapped 
to his waist by a broad leather belt with a big, 
flat, brass buckle. His face and neck were 
tanned red-brown like russet leather. There 
was something in the short bull neck, in the 
sharp seams running across it, that spoke of 
fullness of brutal strength. He wore a hat 
trimmed with tarnished gold braid, and a red 
bandana handkerchief knotted loosely around 
his neck. He stood with his hand resting upon 
Vol. XXL— 78. 61 

the rail of the sloop. " Do you know where 
Master Hezekiah Tipton lives ? " he asked in 
a hoarse, rattling voice. 

" Why, yes, I do," said Jack ; " this is his 
wharf, and I 'm his nephew." 

" Well, then," said the man, " I wish you 'd 
show me to him." 

Jack looked into the office; Hezekiah was 
not there. " Come into the parlor," said Jack, 
"and I '11 go and tell him you 're here." He 
opened the door of the room that always smelt 
damp and stuffy and unused. " If you '11 sit 
down here," said Jack, " I '11 go and find him. 
Who shall I tell him wants him ? " 

" Tell him 't is Captain Butts of the ' Arun- 
del,' " said the stranger. He had seated himself 
and was holding his hat awkwardly between his 
knees, as if not knowing what to do with it. He 
looked about him at his surroundings strangely. 

There was in the distance the sound of a knife 
and fork rattling against a plate. Jack, fol- 
lowing the sound, went along the passage to 
the room beyond. Hezekiah was sitting at sup- 
per. "There 's a man in the parlor," said Jack, 
" would like to see you. He says his name 's 
Captain Butts of the Arundel." 

Hezekiah was looking at Jack as he spoke. 
He laid down his knife and fork immediately, 
and pushed back his chair and arose. Jack fol- 
lowed him back to the parlor. He stood out- 
side of the door looking in. The stranger 
arose as Master Tipton came in, holding out 
his big, brown, hairy hand. " How d' ye do, 
Master Tipton ? I be mightily glad to see you. 
I be Captain Butts of the Arundel." 

"Well, then, Master Captain Butts," said 
Hezekiah, giving him a limp hand, " I be 
mightily glad to see you, for I 've been looking 
for you these three days past, and wondering 
where was the Arundel. There be them nine- 
teen servants down at the Duck and Doe that 
should have been took away yesterday. Their 
lodging at the inn is a matter of ten pence a 




day each. Now, who do you think 's to pay 
for that there ? " 

" Well, well, Master," said the captain, in a 
hoarse, growling voice, " 't were n't no fault of 
mine that I were n't here yesterday. Wind 
and weather be to blame ; so whatever ye lose 
ye may just charge up agin them. We can't 
sail without wind, and we can't sail agin 
weather. As for the men, why, the sooner I 
get my clearance papers and the men aboard, 
the better 't will suit me. The tide turns at 
eight o'clock, and if the wind comes up, as 't is 
like to do, why, I '11 drop out and away." 

Master Hezekiah looked around. Jack was 
still standing in the doorway. " You go in and 
get your supper, Jacky," said he; and then he 
got up and closed the door. 

All the time that Jack sat at his meal old 
Deborah scolded him ceaselessly for being late 
to his meal. 

In the interval of her scolding, Jack could 
hear the distant rumbling of Captain Butts's 
voice in the office. 

It grew darker and darker in the twilight 
gloom of the kitchen, until Jack could hardly 
see the food upon his plate. " I wish you 'd 
bring a candle, Deborah," said he; "I can 
hardly see to find the way to my mouth." 

" A candle ! " said Deborah. " If you 'd come 
to your supper in time you 'd not need a can- 
dle to see. Now you may just go without." 

" Very well," said Jack, " I don't care, for 
I 'm done." 

" Then, if you 're done, you can go down to 
the pump and fetch back some -water." 

Jack took the pail and went off with it. He 
was gone a long time. The night was fairly 
settled when he came stumbling back into the 
kitchen, slopping the water upon the steps and 
the floor. 

" Why," said Deborah, " I thought you was 
never coming. Your uncle 's asking for you in 
the office. He wants to see you there." 

" Very well," said Jack, " if I 'd known that 
maybe I 'd 'a' hurried and maybe I would n't." 

In the 'office he found Captain Butts seated 
at a tall desk, his chin resting upon his hands. 
He looked up at Jack, with his keen gray eyes, 
from under his bushy eyebrows. " Is this the 
boy ? " said he. Hezekiah, who sat opposite to 

his visitor, nodded without speaking. " Come 
hither, my hearty," said Captain Butts, beckon- 
ing to Jack. 

Jack came forward slowly. When he had 
drawn near enough, Captain Butts suddenly 
caught him by the arm and held him tight, 
feeling up and down the length of it. " Ye be 
well put together, my hearty," said he; "ye 'd 
make a valuable servant in the tobacco-fields," 
and he winked at the lad. " Now, how would 
you like to take a cruise to the Americas with 
old Benny Butts?" 

Jack jerked his arm away from the captain's 
grasp. " I am well enough off here as I am, 
thank you, Master Captain," said he, "and I 
don't choose to go to the Americas." 

The captain burst out laughing. He fetched 
a thump upon the desk before him. " Hark 'e 
to that, now!" said he; "he don't choose to 
go to the Americas ! " and he gave another roar 
of laughter. 

Master Hezekiah sat looking on at the two, 
resting his forehead upon his lean fingers and 
his hand shading his eyes from the light of 
the candle. Suddenly he cut into what the 
captain was saying. " Come, come, Captain 
Butts ! " said he sharply, " let there be an end 
to this ! Sure you forget what you 're saying. 
Come hither," said he to Jack. Jack came 
around to him, and the old man lifted the lid 
of the desk and brought out a bundle of 
papers and a little bag of money. He counted 
out a few coins, which he made into a little 
pile. Then he untied the tape and chose one 
from among them. Jack stood watching him. 
" Here be a list of the America servants down 
at the Duck and Doe," said Hezekiah ; " and 
this — " here he chinked the money between 
his fingers as he gave it to Jack — " is fifteen 
shillings ten pence. You pay Landlord Evans 
his account, and then give this release to 
Master Weems, the crimp who hath them in 
charge. After that I want you to deliver the 
men to the captain down at the wharf, d' ye 
understand ? " 

" I think I do," said Jack. 

" Captain Butts will give you a receipt for 
the men at the wharf. But I want you to see 
them aboard the boat, d' ye understand ? " 

" Yes," said Jack, " I think I do." 

i8 9 4-. 



" Very well, come along, my hearty," said 
the captain ; " for 't is time I was getting 
aboard again if we 're going to catch the turn 
of the tide." 

Chapter V. 


Outside in the street it had grown fairly 
dark. The unlighted court was very black, 
only here and there a dim light shining in a 
window. Jack and the captain walked along 
the court together, the captain stumbling and 
tripping in the darkness. At the end of the 
court they parted, the captain going on along 
to the wharf and Jack to the Duck and Doe. 
He found the crimp, and gave him Hezekiah's 
release ; and then the redemptioners immedi- 
ately began to make themselves ready. There 
was something pitiful in the meagerness of their 
preparation. One or two of them had nonde- 
script bundles tied up in handkerchiefs, and one 
had a pair of stockings wrapped up in a piece 
of dirty paper. Beyond this they had nothing 
at all to take with them to the New World 
to which they were bound. 

The crimp brought them out into the court 
of the inn and arranged them in some sort of 
order, two and two, in the dim light of the lan- 
tern. They jostled and pushed one another and 
leered at Jack as he stood looking at them 
helplessly. " Why, Master, I don't know whe- 
ther I '11 be able to take them down to the 
wharf or not," said he. 

" Oh, you '11 be able to take us," said a big, 
bull-necked fellow. " A baby 'd lead us wher- 
ever he chose for to do ! " and then the redemp- 
tioners laughed. 

" Well, I don't know," said the crimp, shak- 
ing his head as he looked them over ; " like 
enough I 'd better go with you as far as the 
wharf. Look 'e ! " said he to the redemptioners, 
" I won't have none of your tricks ; d' ye un- 
derstand ? D' ye see this ? " and he showed 
them a bludgeon. " The first man as tries any 
of his tricks, I knocks him on the head, d' ye 
understand ? " 

" Why, Master," said one of the redemption- 
ers, " you would n't hurt us, would you ? We 
be your lambs." 

" Never you mind," said the crimp, shaking 

his head. " Don't you go trying any of your 
tricks on me. Come along now, — march!" 

" Hurrah for the Duck and Doe ! " cried out 
one of the men. 

They gave a broken and confused cheer as 
they marched away out of the court, the crimp 
walking beside the first couple and Jack coming 
after to keep a lookout upon them. 

So they marched along for a while, down first 
one street and then another, until they had 
come to the water-front. Here the store-houses 
stood dark and deserted as they passed by 
them. At last they came to the wharf, across 
which the night wind swept without obstacle. 

" Well," said the crimp, " I '11 leave you here. 
'T is no use my going any further." 

" Yes," said Jack, " I suppose I can manage 
them very well myself, now." 

" I '11 just wait under the lee of the shed 
here," said the crimp, "till I see you 're all 

"Very well," said Jack. "Come along," — 
to the men. They stood shivering in their 
thin, ragged clothes. At Jack's bidding they 
now marched out along the wharf. There was 
a dim light in the darkness at the end of the 
wharf, where the sloop, black and shapeless 
in the night, lay moored to the piles. When 
Jack came to where the light was, he found 
two dark figures standing waiting for him on 
the wharf. One of them was Captain Butts, 
the other was the man who had come off with 
him in the boat from the brig, and who now 
carried a lantern hanging over his arm. There 
were two or three men standing on the deck of 
the sloop, one of them also carrying a lantern. 
Jack knew that the boat which had brought 
the captain off from the brig was lying beyond 
in the darkness; he could hear the muttering 
voices of the men. 

Captain Butts had twisted his handkerchief 
well up about his throat. 

" Well," said he, " I thought you were never 

" I came as soon as I could," said Jack. 

" Just bring the men out across the sloop 
to the boat here," said the captain. And 
at Jack's bidding, the men one after another 
jumped down from the wharf to the sloop. 
Jack followed them and the captain, and the 




man with the lantern followed Jack. " Where 's 
your list ? " said the captain; and then, as Jack 
gave it to him — " Hold the lantern here, Dyce. 
That 's it." The captain held the list to the 
dull light, referring to it as he counted the 
shivering transports who stood in line. " Six- 
teen — seventeen — eighteen — nineteen — nine- 
teen all told. That 's right. Now, then, look 
alive, my hearties, and get aboard as quick as 
you can ! " 

Jack stood with his hands in his pockets and 
his back to the chill night breeze. The wharf 
and the sloop, deserted in the night, seemed 
singularly lonely. The water, driven by the 
wind, splashed and dashed noisily around the 
end of the wharf. He stood upon the deck of 
the sloop watching the redemptioners as they 
clambered clumsily into the boat alongside, 
stumbling over the thwarts in the darkness, 
and settling themselves, amid the growling and 
swearing of the sailors. " Are you all right ? " 
asked the captain. 

" All right, sir," said Dyce. 

The captain turned suddenly and sharply 
toward Jack. " Now, then," said he, " you get 
aboard too ! " Jack gaped at him. " You get 
aboard too ! " said the captain again. 

" What do you mean ? " 

' ; Why," said the captain, roughly, " I mean 
what I say. You 're to go aboard too." 

Jack still stared at the other, then he laughed. 
" Why," said he, " what d' ye mean ? I 'm not 
going along." 

Suddenly, like a flash, the captain reached 
out and caught Jack by the collar. The attack 
was so sharp and unexpected that Jack had no 
time to prepare himself. Before he knew what 
had happened he found himself dragged vio- 
lently and flung forward toward the boat. He 
was dazed and stunned with the suddenness of 
what had happened. He heard the captain's 
voice saying, " You get in there ! You do as 
I tell you if you know what 's good for you ! " 

For a moment Jack did not realize what had 
happened. Then almost instantly the truth 
flashed upon him ; with the instant flash his 
strength came back to him. He struggled 
fiercely, twisting and writhing, but the captain 
held him in a vise-like grasp. " Let me go ! " 
gasped Jack, — " let me go ! " 

" Into the boat, I tell ye!" he heard the cap- 
tain's voice growling. Again he was jerked 
and flung forward violently toward the rail of 
the sloop. The boats and the dark waters were 
just below. He saw dimly, his sight blurred 
with the frenzy of his struggles, that the men 
were stirring and moving below. He flung out 
his feet against the rail, bracing himself against 
the captain's hold ; at the same time he 
clutched hold of the stays. 

" You will, will you ? " panted the captain. 
He suddenly jerked Jack backward. Jack had 
just time to see a whirling flash in the light of 
the lantern. Then there came a deafening, 
blinding crash. Ten thousand sparkling stars 
flew whirling around and around him. He felt 
a hot stream shoot down across his face, and he 
knew that it was blood. There was another 
crash, this time duller and more distant; then a 
humming that droned away into stillness — 
then nothing. 

" Why, Captain," said Dyce, " I believe you 
've killed the fellow." 

The captain thrust back again into his pocket 
the pistol with which he had struck Jack. " Oh ! 
he 's all right," said he, roughly; "he '11 come 
to by and by ; he 's only stunned a trifle. Get 
him aboard and be quick about it ! There 's 
somebody coming along the wharf now. Here, 
here 's his hat. Catch it there ! " 

Chapter VI. 


For a long while J ack was very light-headed 
and sick. He did not seem to have any 
strength. It seemed to him that several days 
passed while he lay in his berth, now partly 
waking, now partly sleeping. When he was 
partly awake his mind seemed to wander, and 
he could not separate the things he saw now 
from the things he had seen before. Both 
seemed grotesque and distorted. It seemed to 
him that his father was nearly always with him. 

He had a sum to do, and he kept adding up 
the figures and adding up the figures, but al- 
ways when he would get the sum nearly com- 
plete it would fall to pieces, and he would have 
to begin over again. And there was his father 
waiting and waiting for him to do it. And 



there was the sloping deck of the vessel and 
the berths upon the other side, and the brig ris- 
ing and falling, and rolling upon the sea. 
There was the creaking and groaning, and rat- 
tling and sliding, and there were men talking 
together and smoking their pipes. The pun- 
gent smell of the tobacco was sickening to him. 
The steerage was a nasty, bad-smelling, dirty 
place. If he could only do the sum, then his 
father would go away and he would be well, 
and he would go up on deck. Oh, how his 
head ached ! Then the night would come and 
he would be partly asleep. Sometimes he 
would lie half dreaming for an hour or more, 
and in the darkness the things of his fancy 
were very real. Nobody seemed to pay much 
attention to him. It seemed to him that he re- 
membered that very soon after he had been 
brought aboard, Dyce, the mate, had come to 
where he lay, bringing somebody along, and 
that they had stood over him, talking about 
him, and that a number of other people had 
stood near. The man who had come with the 
mate was a thin little man with a long, lean 
chin. He was a barber-leech, and his name was 
Sim Tucker. Sim Tucker had trimmed Jack's 
hair. Then he hurt him very much. It 
seemed to be a grotesque nightmare that the 
barber-leech was sewing up his head. Then a 
bandage was tied around his head, and he was 
very comfortable. Jack knew very well that it 
was all a dream, and he was always surprised 
to wake up and find the bandage around his 

Now and then Sim Tucker would come 
and ask him : " How d' ye feel now ? " 

" Why," said Jack, " if my father would only 
go away — but I can't do the sum." 

" Why, your father says 't was done all right." 

Then it seemed to Jack that the figures did 
fit into the sum and for a little while he was 

After a while he began to get better and his 
head grew clearer. One day he went up to the 
deck. He had not eaten anything at all, and 
was very weak. He climbed up the companion- 
way and stood with his head just above the 
scuttle. With the rise and fall of the vessel, Jack 
could catch every now and then a glimpse of 
the wide, troubled ocean, moving and heaving 

with ceaselessly restless crawling ; of the sharp 
rim of the horizon, cut sharply and blackly 
against the gray sky. Every now and then 
there was a great rush of air from the vast hol- 
low sails overhead that swept back and forth, 
back and forth across the wide, windy sky. The 
sailors looked at him as he stood there with the 
bandage wrapped around his head. He began 
to feel very sick and dizzy with the motion of 
the vessel, and presently he crept down below 
back to his berth again. 

"Be you feeling better?" said one of the 
men, coming to him. 

" Yes, I think I am," said Jack ; " only it 
makes me sick and faint-like to stand up." 

" Well, you 've been pretty sick," said the 
man, " and that 's the solemn truth. I thought 
that the captain had killed you for sure when 
I saw him hit you that second crack with the 

Several of the other redemptioners had gath- 
ered about his berth and stood looking down 
at him. Jack wished they would go away. He 
lay quite still with his eyes shut, and by and 
by they did leave him. 

He felt very lonely and deserted. A great 
lump rose in his throat when he thought of 
all that had happened to him. " I have not 
a friend in the world," he said to himself. It 
seemed very cruel to be treated as he had been, 
and to be carried away to slavery in the Amer- 
icas. Well, he would not stay there ; they should 
not keep him. He would find some way to get 
back home again. There must be some way of 
escape; for they would not chain him or put 
him in prison. Presently Sim Tucker came to 
him. " How d' ye feel ? " said he. 

"Oh, I feel better," said Jack, irritably; "I 
wish you 'd go away and let me alone." 

" Let me look at your head," said the leecher. 
He unwound the bandage deftly with his long, 
lean fingers. " Aye," said he, " ye 're getting 
along well now. To-morrow I '11 take out two 
of the stitches. He must have hit ye with the 
cock of the pistol to make a great, big, nasty 
cut like that." 

But the fever had quitted him and Jack 
began to get well very quickly. After he was 
once fairly able to be up on deck he had to 
take his part in the work allotted to the other 




redemptioners, such as washing the decks, 
painting and tarring the ropes, and the like. 

The first time he came face to face with Cap- 
tain Butts, he did not know what to do or where 
to look. He was standing in line, waiting for his 
mess of junk and biscuit to be served out to 
him, when the captain suddenly appeared. He 
stood by the rail, holding by the backstays, 
looking on at the men as the food was served 
out to them. At first Jack did not dare to look 
at him, but finally he did glance up sullenly. 
The captain did not seem to observe him. The 
redemptioners were joking coarsely with one 

" What was that ye said ? " said the captain. 

A man repeated the rude jest, and the cap- 
tain laughed. Jack saw by Captain Butts's 
indifference that he himself need expect no 
further harm. 

Jack was almost well. He sat on a sea- 
chest while Sim Tucker dressed his head. Sim, 
who had some water in a cup, washed the 
wound with a piece of rag, touching it deftly 
and lightly with the tips of his long, thin fin- 
gers. Jack sat brooding over his wrongs as 
Sim looked at the wound. " Well," said Sim 
Tucker, after having finished the examination 
of the place, " I '11 tie up your head just 
once more ; but to-morrow I '11 put a plaster 
on it, and then ye '11 be about well." 

" He might as well have killed me at once," 
said Jack, moodily, " as to kidnap me this 

" Why," said Sim, " to be sure 't was a pretty 
hard case; but then, you 're not the only soul in 
the world, by a long score, that was ever kid- 

Jack looked up from under his brows at the 
lean, intent face looking at his wounded head. 
"Well, then," said he, "and pray how does that 
better me?" 

Sim looked down at him. He was holding 
two or three pins tightly between his lips. 
" Why," said he, " I don't know that it makes 
your case any better ; but all the world can't 
stop to pity ye, d' ye see, when there be others 
in just as bad a case." 

" Well," said Jack, after awhile, " there 's 
this about it: they sha'n't keep me when I get 

ashore in the Virginias; I '11 find some way to 
get back home again, see if I don't. As for my 
case being a common case of kidnapping, why, 
that 't is not. Here am I with a fortune just 
left me, and it big enough to buy up the whole 
of this brig and Captain Butts into the bar- 
gain, and yet to be carried away in this fashion 
as though I were no better than a London ken- 
nel picker. I tell you " — and his voice choked 
— " 't is a mightily hard case!" 

Sim made no comment. He finished tying 
up Jack's head, pinning the last pin and patting 
down the bandage smooth. 

Chapter VII. 


There was a man on board of the Arundel 
who had once been one of the America pirates. 
His name was Christian Dred. It was the 
name that first caught Jack's ears. " Christian 
Dred!" said he; "why, that 's as strange a 
name as ever I heard in all my life!" Then 
one day he asked of the man himself, " Is Chris- 
tian Dred your real name ? " 

" My real name! " repeated the man; "why, 
certain 't is my real name. What d' ye think 
they 'd call me Christian Dred for if 't were n't 
my real name ? " 

"Why, I don't know," said Jack; " 't is 
such a strange name." 

" 'T is n't strange to me," said Dred, "seeing 
as how I 've carried it nigh forty year." 

But it was when he heard the men talking 
about the man, and saying that he was a pirate, 
that Christian Dred really became wonderful 
to him. 

The names of Captain Avery and of Captain 
Kidd were very famous in England, and Jack 
had often heard stories about them. Just at 
that time, both the Americas and the Indian 
Ocean were overrun with pirates. It was about 
the time that Captain Edward England had 
made himself famous by capturing a treasure- 
ship with, it was said, an Indian princess 
aboard. Blackbeard in the Americas had made 
himself quite as famous. Jack had many and 
many a time listened to stories about these 
pirates, never quite believing them. Now it 
seemed almost incredible to him that Dred 

'894 J 


had really been a pirate, and he hardly could 
believe it. Everything about the man became 
strange and wonderful to him; the red hand- 
kerchief he always wore around his head, the 
ear-rings in his ears, and the narrow, bead-like 
eyes, and the crooked scar down across his 
cheek. It seemed to him that Dred was just 
what he would have pictured a pirate to be. 

One day there were three or four of the 
crew and some of the redemptioners lounging 
up under the lee of the bow rail. " Spin us a 
yarn, Dred," said a sailor named Stivins. 

" Tell us about the ' Good Intent,' Dred," 
said another. 

" Oh, I 've told you that afore," said Dred. 

" Heave ahead, and tell you about the Good 
Intent, Dred," said Stivins. 

Dred took his tobacco-pipe out of his pocket 
and began very carefully to fill it. " Well," 
said he, " the Good Intent were a bark, and 
she sailed from Bristol, England — " 

" Oh, go back to the beginning," said Stivins; 
" about your being with Blackbeard." 

Dred was striking his flint-and-steel, and did 
not speak until after he had lit his pipe and 
puffed out several clouds of smoke. " Well, 
then," said he, " I were with Blackbeard. We 'd 
cruised up from Honduras and had stopped 
off at Charleston. I 've often told you about 
that there, the way Morton and we went 
ashore at Charleston, and made 'em gin up a 
chest of medicine, and how Blackbeard stopped 
all the crafts a-coming into Charleston harbor. 
Well, arter that — and we made a pretty good 
purchase of it, too — Captain Blackbeard ma- 
rooned a lot of men off a sand-spit at Topsail 
Inlet. Then we got away through Ocracock 
and Pamlico to Bath Town. 

" Well, arter we 'd been at Bath Town for 
a while, we went off on another cruise. We 
sailed about the bay and up and down for 
maybe nigh onto a month without overhaul- 
ing much of any account. Then one day the 
lookout sighted a sail bound seeming for the 
Chesapeake Capes. When we raised her we 
made her out to be a bark of six or seven hun- 
dred tons' burden. That were early in the 
morning, as I mind me. Well, we chased her 
all day, and at last overhauled her about two 
hours of sunset. We fired a gun across her 

bows, but she would n't surrender, being armed 
and having a stomach for fighting. She fired 
at us and hit us a many times, and we fired 
maybe a dozen or so broadsides afore she 
hauled down her colors and we could come 
aboard her. She was cut up mortal bad. The 
captain was wounded, and two men was hurt 
so bad that one on 'em died while we was 
aboard. That there bark was the most valley- 
able purchase we 'd made for many a day, 
being ladened with cloth goods and general 
supplies to a rich planter, which his name was 
Parker. Captain Teach had the captain up and 
was for axin' him all about the prize, but we 
could make little or naught out o' him. He 
would n't speak a word. I won't tell ye all 
that Captain Teach did to him ; but no, he 
would n't speak a word. So Captain Teach 
had up the supercargo, for the lubber had 
gone below. The man was so scared-like 
that me and another fellow had to carry him 
up, and then hold him betwixt us, else he 
would have fallen on deck like a block. He 
begged and prayed us not to shoot him, and 
made such a mouth of it that Captain Black- 
beard vowed he would shoot him if he did 
not hold his noise. Then he began axin' him 
questions, until by and by it came out that 
there were a chist of money aboard in care of 
young Mr. Ed'ard Parker, who was coming 
home from England, where he 'd been to col- 
lege. We all knowed who Mr. Ed'ard Parker 
was, seein' as how his father, Colonel Parker, 
is so great a man in Virginy, d' ye see ? 

" ' And where 's the young gentleman and 
the money ? ' asked the captain. 

" ' Why,' says the supercargo, ' I see him go 
into the round-house just afore I go below.' 

"As soon as we heard that," continued Dred, 
" a parcel of us runs across the deck and tried 
the door of the round-house, but found it 
locked. We sang out, but nobody answered 
our hail a word. Then up comes Captain 
Blackbeard and fetched the door a kick. 
' Hello there ! ' says he ; ' open this here door 
and give up that money ye have, and we '11 
do 'e no harm.' But all the time my gentle- 
man says ne'er a word. ' If ye don't open 
the door,' says Blackbeard, ' we '11 smash her 
open, and I '11 blow the head off ye.' Then 




my gentleman inside speaks up at last, and as 
cool as ice. ' No,' says he, ' I won't open the 
door, and I won't gin up the money ; 't was 
left,' s'ys he, ' in my charge, and I won't give 
it up but with my life.' 

" Then the captain fell into one of his mad 
roaring humors, and vowed that he would have 
that young Mr. Parker out of the round-house 
if every man aboard died for it. So half a score 
of us ran ag'in' the door, but it was braced with 
summat inside and would n't give way. Then 
my gentleman inside begins firing through the 
panel of the door — bang — bang! and then 
again — bang — bang ! and three men tumbled 
down, one of them shot so bad through the 
neck that we had to hale him off by his legs, 
and he died in a little bit just at the bottom 
of the poop-ladder. 

" Arter that there, we all went back a bit — 
not eating to be shot down for naught. As for 
Captain Teach, why, to be sure, he was like a 
man possessed. I never see a man like him 
then out o' Bedlam. He was just for murder- 
ing every soul aboard ; and Hands and Morton 
(he was our gunner) was a-talking with him to 
pacify him like, and the captain of the craft was 
standin' as pale as a sheet whils' our captain 
shook his fist under his nose and bawled at him 
so that no man could 'a' knowed what he said. 

" ' No, no,' said the captain of -the bark ; 
' don't you do us no harm. I '11 go and try to 
get him to come out; and that, to be sure, is 
the very best I can do.' Then he goes up to 
the round-house. ' Mr. Ed'ard,' says he, 'ye 'd 
best open the door to 'em, or I can't answer for 
their not murtherin' the lot of us.' 

" ' No,' says he, speakin' up as bold as a 
bo's'n ; ' I won't open to nobody,' says he. 

" Well, seein' as how we was makin' nothing 
of it all by the way we was doing, I climbed up 
on the poop-deck, thinking maybe to get a sight 
of my young gentleman through the skylight. 
But no; he had blocked up the skylight with 
mattresses from the captain's berth. So then 
I went across the poop-deck to the stern falls. 
The boat had been shot away by one of our 
broadsides and the lines hung loose from the 
davits. I lashed two on 'em together and let 
myself down from the davits with one hand, 
holding my pistol with t' other. I eased my- 

self to one side until I was low enough, and 
then I peeped in at the stern window. There 
I could see my young gentleman off beyond in 
the captain's cabin standing close by the door; 
and I can see him now, as plain as I can see 
this here hand o' mine. He had pulled a 
couple of sea-chists to the door, and he had 
a plank from the captain's berth set agin 'em 
and propped agin the braces of the table. He 
was in his shirt-sleeves, and he had a pistol in 
each hand. The captain o' the bark was still 
a-talkin' to him from t' other side of the door, 
and I could hear my young gentleman shouting 
that he would never gin up the money. He 
had his head turned to one side and he did n't 
see me, so I crawled in through the window. 
But I 'd no more 'n set foot on deck than all 
on a sudden he wheeled like a flash, and afore 
I knowed what he was at had fired his pistol 
fair for my head. I felt the wind of the ball, 
and it smashed into a chiny closet just behind 
me. Then I ran and caught him just afore he 
had a chance to shoot ag'in. I caught t' other 
pistoi and tried to pull it away from him, but 
he would not gin it up. Then afore I knowed 
what had happened, the pistol went off. I 
thought my head was blowed off at first with 
the noise and the blaze of it, and when I came 
to myself like ag'in, there was I a-standing with 
the pistol in my hand, and there was Mr. Ed'ard 
Parker a-lying across the chist afore the door." 

" Was he killed ? " asked Brookes.. 

" I think he were," said Dred ; " anyways he 
was dead afore we could get him out of the 

" Well, that there fight aboard the bark was- 
too much for me, and too much for the rest 
on us for the matter of that. Aye; it meant 
the gallows for all on us and naught else, for 
Mr. Parker's father is like a king in Virginia, 
and we all knowed he 'd hunt the last man 
on us down and hang us, if we gin him the 
chance. Well, just about that time the king 
had sent over his pardon to all pirates as would 
surrender to it. So arter we got to North 
Carolina we just run up to Edenton and sur- 
rendered to the governor. He was a good 
friend of Captain Blackbeard's, he was, and he 
came down to Bath Town twice while we were 
there, and the captain was up six or eight 

'HE 'll come to by and bv; he 's only stunned a trifle,' said the captain." (See page 620.) 

Vol. XXI.— 79. 





times to Edenton. Well, we surrendered to the 
royal proclamation, and arter that there was no 
touching any on us at all with the law. I tell 
you what 't is, messmates, I never miss having 
that there pardon with me, I can tell you." 

" Have you got it with you now ? " asked 

" Aye ; I have," said Dred. 

" Show it to 'em, Chris," said Stivins. 

Dred thrust his hand into the bosom of his 
shirt and drew out a parcel wrapped in oilskin. 
It was hung by a bit of twine around his neck. 
He untied the packet very carefully, and un- 
wrapped the oilskin and brought out an 
engrossed form filled in with a bold black 
signature. " That there," said he, " pardons 
Chris Dred, as ye may read for yourself, for all 
offenses whatsomever committed upon the high 
seas ; d' ye see ? " 

It was passed around the circle. It seemed 
to Jack when he held and looked at it and saw 
that it was all so, that the paper did really par- 
don Dred for piracy that he had committed, — 
as though it were a sort of documentary evi- 
dence to the truth of the story. He would not 
perhaps have really believed that Dred had 
been a pirate if he had not seen the royal par- 
don with his own eyes. It was returned to 
Dred, who wrapped it up as carefully as he had 
unwrapped it. 

" What became of the chist of money that they 
had aboard ? " said one of the redemptioners. 

" Why," said Dred, " that there chist of 
money was buried at night, and there be no- 
body in the world except Pirate Blackbeard 
and Chris Dred knows where : t is." 

'■Do you believe that story?" said a redemp- 
tioner afterward to Jack. 

"Why, yes, I do," said Jack; "for did n't I 
see the pardon with my own eyes ? " 

" That don't prove anythink," said another 
of the redemptioners. " I don't believe there 
was any chist of money taken that Chris Dred 
and Blackbeard buried betwixt 'em. Why, 
that don't stand to reason, that don't. What 
would they go a-burying money for instead 
of spending it? And then, what for would 
Blackbeard show Chris Dred where 't was 
buried ? " 

That had not struck Jack before. "Well," 

said he, after thinking a moment, " I believe it 
anyhow." And then the man laughed at him. 

One day Jack was going through the fore- 
castle. Dred sat on a sea-chest mending a pair 
of sea-breeches. Jack sat down and watched 
him driving the needle swiftly and deftly. At 
last Dred ended his task, patted down the 
patch he had done, tied the thread and bit it 
off with a snap of his white teeth. He opened 
his gunny-bag and brought out a paper. He 
unfolded it, and Jack saw that it contained 
besides an assortment of buttons, some little 
trinkets of various sorts. One — the most con- 
spicuous — was a dozen or more pieces of 
money strung on a bit of wire. Jack watched 
him for a while as he fingered over the but- 
tons, picking out one here and another there. 

" What 's all that money strung on that wire 
for, Dred ? " asked he at last. 

Dred turned upon him. He held the thread 
with which he had been sewing between his 
lips. " What makes you hang around me all 
the time and ax me questions ? " said he. 
" You be big enough to be a man, but you 
act like a boy all the while. What makes 
you tease me forever with questions ? " 

Jack hesitated for a moment. He did not 
know whether to answer Dred frankly or not, 
and then he concluded to do so and take his 
chance of offending the other. " Because," 
said he, " I think you are the wonderfulest man 
I ever saw." He blushed after he had spoken. 

Dred looked steadily at him for a moment 
or two, and Jack saw that he was not dis- 
pleased. Then Dred smiled. He reached out 
and caught Jack by the collar and gave him 
a shake. "And so you think I 'm a wonderful 
man, do you ? " said he. 

" Yes," said Jack, glad to laugh, " I do think 
you are a wonderful man." 

" What makes you think I am a wonderful 
man ? " 

"Why," said Jack, "because you tell such 
wonderful stories. Was that really so, Dred, 
about that bark that the pirates took and about 
that chest of money, and about you and Black- 
beard burying it ? " 

"Yes, it were," said Dred, "gospel truth — 
leastwise Captain Blackbeard buried the money, 
and I know where he buried it." 




He picked up the string of jingling coins. Then he wrapped them up with the buttons 

He held it out in his hand. " This here and put the paper away into the gunny-bag 

money," said he — "this here money came off again. 

of that same bark." He shook the jingling After that Christian Dred was always very 

pieces of coin together. kind to Jack. 

(To lie continued.) 


Mua§ wofcg imM. f *pie days of the wique" 
|Jini(S §®<£@m(sl (sky /Sunday -- 




I 'll give you three chances 

To guess what I 've seen. 

The first was a preacher, 

In brown and in green ; 

The second a vase to hold raindrops that fall ; 

The third lives on nothing — 

Now what are they all ? 

' Your first is so easy 
I could not but guess. 
'T is Jack-in-the-pulpit 
In brown-and-green dress. 
The second 's a pitcher-plant 
Wet with the dew — 
I 've seen plenty of them 
And that 's how I knew. 
The third is the air-plant — 
You 're wrong to declare 

That it lives upon nothing ; 
Its food 's in the air. 

' And now come my riddles : 
You 've heard, I don't doubt, 
Of a sailor whose boat 
On the sea floats about. 
The second 's a builder 
In wood and in clay. 
The third is a spinner; 
Now guess — what are they?" 

The nautilus sails in his boat on the sea, 
And so I am certain the sailor is he. 
The beaver builds houses of mud and of wood, 
And that is your second. 'T is well understood 
How a spider spins traps for the poor silly fly. 
But not to be caught by your riddles am I ! 

Ames Lewis Mite hill. 


By H. Hel.mick. 


A learned scholar possessed a parrot which 
was always in his study. It sat upon the back 
of his chair and picked up some phrases in 
Greek and Latin as well as some of the wise 
comments the scholar muttered as he pored 
over his books. Every day students came to 
the scholar in pursuit of knowledge. 

It happened that the scholar fell sick, and for 
many days was unable to attend his class. On 
recovering, he returned to his study and found 

the parrot from its perch on the back of his 
chair holding forth to a much augmented class, 
which stood lost in admiration. 

" My friends," said the scholar, " to seem to 
know a thing, contents you more than to know 
it really. I resign my charge, and henceforth 
the parrot shall be your teacher." 

And, strange to say, when the scholar left 
them with the parrot the students were well 




By Brander Matthews. 

The first American man of letters, Benjamin 
Franklin, was a man of letters only incidentally, 
and, as it were, accidentally ; for he was a 
printer by trade, a politician by choice, and 
never an author by profession. Franklin wrote 
abundantly, but what he wrote was always to 
help along a cause he had at heart; he never 
sat down deliberately to compose a book, and 
his greatest work, his " Autobiography," was 
not published until many years after his death. 
The first American who frankly adopted litera- 
ture as a calling, and who successfully relied on 
his pen for his support, was Washington Irving. 
The first American who was a professed author 
was not Franklin, who was born a Bostonian 
and who died a Philadelphian ; but Irving, 
who was born, who lived, and who died a 

Washington Irving's father was a Scotchman 
who had settled in New York a dozen years 
before the Revolution. During the British oc- 
cupation of Manhattan Island, the Irvings were 

stanch patriots, and did what they could to 
relieve the sufferings of the American prisoners 
in the city. A few months before the evacua- 
tion day, which the inhabitants of New York 
were to keep as a holiday for a century after, 
Washington Irving was born, on April 3, 1783, 
being, like Benjamin Franklin, the youngest 
of many sons. The boy was not baptized until 
after Washington and his army had entered the 
city. " Washington's work is ended," said the 
mother, " and the child shall be named after 

New York came out of the Revolution half 
in ruins, and wasted by its long captivity ; its 
straggling streets filled only the toe of the 
island, and it had less than twenty-five thou- 
sand inhabitants. But the little city began to 
grow again as soon as peace returned. It was 
in New York, in 1789, that Washington took 
the oath as the first President of these United 
States. One day not long thereafter a Scotch 
maid-servant of the Irvings', struck with the en- 




thusiasm which everywhere greeted the great 
man, followed him into a shop with the young- 
est son of the family, and said, " Please, your 
honor, here 's a bairn was named for you." 
Washington placed his hand on the head of 
the boy, and gave him his blessing. 

New York was then the capital of the coun- 
try ; it was a spreading seaport ; it retained 
many traces of its Dutch origin ; it had in its 
streets men of every calling and of every color. 
Here the boy grew up happy, going to school 
and getting knowledge out of books, but also 
lingering along the pier-heads, and picking up 
the information to be gathered in that best of 
universities — a great city. He was playful ra- 
ther than studious ; and although two of his 
brothers had been educated at Columbia Col- 
lege, he neglected to enter — a blunder which he 
regretted all his life, and which Columbia regrets 
to this day. Perhaps the fault may be charged 
to his health, which was poor, and for the sake 
of improving it he began to live much in the 
open air, making voyages up the Hudson in 
sloops that then plied as packets between New 
York and Albany. The first sail through the 
highlands was to him a time of intense delight, 
and the Catskill Mountains had the most 
witching effect on his boyish imagination. 
Nowadays, we are used to hearing the Hudson 
praised, but it was Irving who first proclaimed 
its enchanting beauty ; and it was when he was 
a dreaming youth that he discovered its charm. 

Much against the grain he began to read 
law, but his studies were only fitful. One 
of his brothers established a daily paper in 
1802 ; and to this Washington, then only nine- 
teen, contributed a series of occasional essays 
under the signature of Jonathan Oldstyle. 
These were humorous and sportive papers, and 
they were copied far and wide, as the sayings of 
Poor Richard had been quoted fifty years be- 
fore. The next summer, Irving made a journey 
up the Mohawk, to Ogdensburg, and thence to 
Montreal. The year after, being then just 
twenty-one, his brothers sent him to Europe in 
the hope that the long sea-voyage and the 
change of scene might restore him to health. 
Irving had to be helped up the side of the ship, 
and the captain said to himself, "There 's a 
chap who will go overboard before we get 

across." The voyage did him good, and from 
Bordeaux he went on to Genoa ; he pushed 
on as far as Sicily, and came back to Rome ; 
then turned north to Paris, and finally crossed 
over to London. After a year and a half of 
most enjoyable wandering he took ship again 
for home, and arrived in New York safely after 
a stormy passage of sixty-four days. 

Washington Irving now returned to the 
study of law, and he was soon admitted to the 
bar — a proof rather of the mercy of the ex- 
aminers than of the amount of his legal know- 
ledge. He never made any serious attempt to 
earn his living as a lawyer. Only a few weeks 
after his admission, he, his brother William, and 
his friend James K. Paulding, sent forth the 
first number of " Salmagundi," an irregular pe- 
riodical suggested, perhaps, by the " Spectator" 
of Addison and Steele, but droller, more wag- 
gish, and with sharper shafts for folly as it flies. 
The first number was published in January, 
1807, and caused not only great amusement, 
but also much wonder as to the real names of 
the daring authors. The twentieth, and final 
number, appeared a year later. Irving always 
spoke of it as a very juvenile production, and 
such it is, no doubt ; but it was brisk and lively, 
indeed it was brighter than anything of the kind 
yet written in America ; and in the papers con- 
tributed by Washington Irving we can see the 
germs of certain of his later works. 

One of these papers pretended to be a chap- 
ter from " The Chronicles of the Renowned 
and Ancient City of Gotham," and Irving's 
next literary undertaking was a burlesque his- 
tory of New York, which he and his brother 
Peter undertook to write together. The broth- 
ers had heaped up many notes when Peter was 
called away, and Washington, changing the 
plan of the book, began to write it alone. He 
started on his labor joyful and happy, but he 
ended it in the depths of sorrow. He was in 
love with Miss Matilda Hoffman, a charming 
and graceful girl, and their marriage had been 
agreed on. Suddenly, having caught a bad 
cold, which went to her lungs, after a brief 
illness she died. Irving, then twenty-six, bore 
the blow like a man, but he carried the scar 
to the grave. To his most intimate friends 
he never mentioned her name. For several 




months after her death he wandered aimlessly, 
unable to apply himself to anything. Then he 
went back to his work, and finished the bur- 
lesque history of New York. It may seem 

w^/^^/Sk fc^- 

From an etching by I 

D. Smillie after .1 sketch fro: 
at Sunnyside, July, 1848.* 

strange that a book of such bubbling humor 
should be the result of those days of darkness ; 
but as has often happened in literature, the writ- 
ings at which people laugh longest are the work 
of men who are grave rather than gay. 

" A History of New York, by Diedrich 
Knickerbocker," was published in December, 
1809. It was a playful parody of the annals of 
New Amsterdam, laughing at the Dutch bur- 
ghers who had founded the capital of New 
Holland, and making fun of their manners and 
their customs. It is no wonder that " Knick- 
erbocker" was received with acclamation. It 
was the most readable book which had yet 
appeared in America — for Franklin's " Auto- 
biography" did not get into print until 1817. 
At home it gave a name to a time in New 

York's history, and to a set of the city's tradi- 
tions, a name even now in popular use, for every 
one knows what is meant when we speak of a 
person or a thing as a " Knickerbocker." Abroad 
it revealed to the critics that 
American life was to have its 
own literature. Scott read the 
book aloud to his family. The 
book still delights all who can 
appreciate its delicate humor ; 
nowadays our taste in humor 
is more highly spiced than it 
was when "Knickerbocker" 
appeared, but it is not purer. 
The protests which a few de- 
scendants of the Dutch found- 
ers of the city ventured to put 
forth were laughed aside, for 
the public had taken the 
joke and were unwilling to 
have the fun spoiled. Yet it 
is to be regretted that, in his 
youth, Irving should have 
echoed the British scoffs at the 
Dutch. We are rarely fair to 
our rivals, and the Dutch had 
not only taught the British ag- 
riculture and commerce, but 
they had swept the British 
Channel with a broom at their 
admiral's mast-head; and so 
the British disliked them. 
Foremost in art, and in law, and in education, 
the Dutch had exerted a most wholesome influ- 
ence on American institutions — the chief of 
which, our common-school system, was probably 
derived from Holland. 

Irving did not think of this when he made 
fun of the Dutchmen of New Amsterdam, or 
he did not know it. There was no malice in 
his satire; but thoughtlessness sometimes hurts 
as severely. When Irving wrote this, the least 
worthy and the most popular of his books, the 
inhabitants of New York did not yet number 
one hundred thousand. 

For ten years after the publication of " Knick- 
erbocker," Irving brought forth no new work. 
He lingered and loitered and hesitated. He 
went to Washington for a season, and he edited 

life by F. O. C. Darley 

From Irvingiana, a memorial of Washington Irving published by Charles B. Richardson in i860. 

i8 9 4-; 


a magazine in Philadelphia. When the War 
of 1 812 broke out, he was stanchly patriotic, 
although he deplored the war itself. After the 
wanton destruction of the capitol at Washing- 
ton by the British, he offered his services to 
the governor of New York, and was appointed 
aide and military secretary. In 1815, after peace 
was proclaimed, he went over to England to 
see his brother. Intending only a brief visit, 
he was absent from home, as it happened, for 
seventeen years. 

In England and in Scotland he met the liter- 
ary celebrities of the day, among them Camp- 
bell and Scott. He saw Mrs. Siddons act, and 

6 33 

" The Sketch-Book " was a miscellany of 
essays, sketches, and tales. As Irving wrote 
to a friend, he had " attempted no lofty theme, 
nor sought to look wise and learned." " I 
have preferred," he said, " addressing myself 
to the feeling and fancy of the reader more 
than to his judgment." The first number con- 
tained the " Voyage to England " and " Rip 
Van Winkle " ; and its success was instant and 
remarkable. As the following numbers ap- 
peared, they began to be reprinted in British 
periodicals; and so Irving, still detained in 
England, gathered the first four numbers into 
a volume and issued it in London. The series 

£^W*W *~J J&y^ 


^>t^5> /c*^ / dstS! *<k, "d^Zs -6^v, *<s&**+- < *Ce^- 
^t^L*) bud* <*4L*l*r *&/ £*SLt+i* U&&L* A. tW&frt&lS 

This illustration, and the portrait at the beginning of the article, are used by kind permission of Messrs. G. P. Putnam's Sons. 

Miss O'Neil, and Edmund Kean. At last he extended to seven numbers in America, and on 

turned again to literature, and the first number both sides of the Atlantic the complete book 

of "The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent." was published in two volumes toward the end 

was published in New York in 1819. of 1820. Thereafter, there was never any doubt 
Vol. XXI.— So. 




that Irving had a secure place in the history of 
English and American literature. 

The charm of the " Sketch-Book " is not dif- 
ficult to define. Sunshine lights up every page, 
and a cheerful kindliness glows upon them all. 
From the " Sketch-Book " we must date the re- 
vival of Christmas feasting, although, no doubt, 
Irving was aided powerfully by Dickens, who 
took the American as his model in more ways 
than we are wont to remark. It is the "Sketch- 
Book " which has sent thousands of Americans 
across the Atlantic, passionate pilgrims to Strat- 
ford, entranced wanderers through Westmin- 
ster Abbey, and happy loiterers in the country 
churchyards of England. Although in the 
second number of the " Sketch-Book," Irving 
warned " English Writers on America " that 
their malicious reports were certain to cause ill- 
will, — as, indeed, they have done, — no Ameri- 
can ever felt more kindly toward England ; and 
when he died, Thackeray, calling him "the first 
ambassador whom the New World of Letters 
sent to the Old," praised him for his constant 
good-will to the mother country. 

Though Irving was stalwart in his Ameri- 
canism always, — he refused, for example, to 
write for the Quarterly Review, because it had 
ever been a bitter enemy to America, — he had 
a sincere liking for England, and a hearty ap- 
preciation of its picturesque possibilities. This 
was shown to advantage in his next book, 
" Bracebridge Hall," published in 1822; and 
it was seen even in the book that followed 
this — the "Tales of a Traveler," published in 
1824. These two collections may be described 
not unfairly as continuations of the " Sketch- 
Book," the former containing chiefly essays 
and sketches, and the latter, short stories. 
There is in all the libraries of England no 
book more filled with the gentle spirit of 
English country life than " Bracebridge Hall " ; 
and Irving himself never wrote a more deli- 
cately humorous sketch than the " Stout Gen- 
tleman," in that volume. 

In the history of the short story, one of the 
most useful as it is one of the most popular 
of literary forms, Irving holds a high place. 
The " Sketch-Book " owed much of its success 
to " Rip Van Winkle " and the " Legend of 
Sleepy Hollow " — tales of a kind till then un- 

known in English literature ; and " Dolph Hey- 
liger," in " Bracebridge Hall," is a worthy third, 
while " Guests from Gibbet Island " and " Wolf- 
ert Weber," in the "Tales of a Traveler," are 
not far behind. Considering their strength, 
Irving's short stories have a singular simplicity; 
they are slight in plot and simple in the char- 
acter-drawing. He understood his own powers 
clearly. " I consider a story merely a frame on 
which to stretch my materials," so he wrote to 
a friend ; " it is the play of thought, and senti- 
ment, and language; the weaving in of char- 
acters, lightly yet expressively delineated; the 
familiar and faithful exhibition of scenes of 
common life ; and the half-concealed vein of 
humor that is often playing through the whole ; 
these are among what I aim at." This is a fair 
statement of the qualities which give charm to 
" Rip Van Winkle " and its fellows. Little did 
Irving foresee that these tales of his were but 
the first-fruits of that abundant harvest, rich in 
local flavor, which later American story-tellers 
were to raise, each on his own half-acre. Haw- 
thorne and Foe, Mr. Bret Harte and Mr. Cable, 
are all followers in Irving's footsteps. 

It was while Byron and Scott were the lead- 
ers of English letters that Irving published the 
" Sketch-Book," and made good his own title 
to an honorable position in literature. By the 
publication of " Bracebridge Hall," and of the 
" Tales of a Traveler," his footing became 
firmer, no doubt; but he did not advance fur- 
ther. Irving was in Spain in 1826, and there 
he remained for more than three years, — the 
most laborious and fruitful years of his life. 
He had gone to Spain thinking to translate 
Navarrete's collection of documents concerning 
Columbus ; but getting interested in the char- 
acter and in the career of Columbus, he soon 
settled down to the preparation of a biography 
of his own. He took his task seriously; he 
spared no pains in getting every date right and 
every proper name exact; he rewrote as often 
as he discovered new material. He knew that 
a biography was not a work of fiction, to be 
warped at the will of the writer, but rather 
a monument to be built slowly out of actual 

When the "Life of Columbus" appeared in 
1828, it was seen at once that Irving had not 



only the gift of the born story-teller, but also 
the sterner virtues of the historian. To this 
day, despite the storm of dispute which has 
raged over every item of Columbus's career, 
Irving's biography remains a valuable author- 
ity. A most devoted student of the details 
of Columbus's life has declared that Irving's 
" is a history written with judgment and impar- 
tiality, which leaves far behind it all descriptions 
of the discovery of the New World published 
before or since." 

If to-day it were edited with notes embody- 
ing the latest information, it would hold its 
own against all new-comers. The reader sees 
a completed painting, and not the raw mate- 
rials out of which he is invited to make a pic- 
ture for himself. 

The " Life of Columbus" was soon followed 
by a book about " The Companions of Colum- 
bus," and by " The Chronicle of the Conquest 
of Granada," which Irving regarded as his best 
work, and which Coleridge greeted as a mas- 
terpiece of its kind. Just what its kind is, it 
is not easy to declare, but perhaps it may be 
described as a record of fact presented with the 
freedom the author had used in writing fiction. 
In the main, it is a true story, but it is as obe- 
dient to the hands of the story-teller as though 
he had made it up. The narrative is spirited, 
the style is delightful, and there is a never- 
ending play of sentiment and humor. 

These are the qualities which grace yet an- 
other Spanish book, " The Alhambra," perhaps 
the most fascinating of all Irving's writings. 
" The Alhambra " is a medley of travel, 
sketches, character-studies, and brief tales ; it is 
what Prescott called it : a Spanish " Sketch- 
Book." The method of the author is the same 
as in his " Sketch-Book," only he has changed 
the model who poses before him. " Brace- 
bridge Hall " is not more English than " The 
Alhambra " is Spanish. It is full of the sights 
and the sounds of Spain ; and there it is plea- 
sant to gaze upon this reflection of Moorish 
architecture and Iberian landscape and Spanish 
character in the clear mirror held up to nature 
by the genial New-Yorker. 

"The Alhambra" was published in 1832, 
and after an absence of seventeen years, Irving 
returned to his native city. He found New 

York wonderfully expanded ; in the scant half- 
century of his life, the twenty thousand popula- 
tion had increased to two hundred thousand. 
He was made heartily welcome, and his fellow- 
citizens promptly bestowed on him the compli- 
ment of a public dinner. From that day to his 
death he was the acknowledged head of Ameri- 
can letters. He bore his honors as easily as he 
bore all things. He made a home for himself 
in the village of Tarrytown, New York, on the 
banks of the Hudson he loved, and near the 
Sleepy Hollow he had celebrated. Here, in the 
stone cottage of Sunnyside, he settled down, 
enjoying the leisure which now and again he 
varied by periods of hard labor. 

Thus ten years passed away; and in 1842 
Irving was making ready to write the life of 
Washington, when he was surprised by the ap- 
pointment of Minister to Spain. Daniel Web- 
ster was then Secretary of State, and he knew 
no American could be more welcome in Spain 
than the biographer of Columbus. A foreign 
appointment is almost the only honor a republic 
can bestow upon its foremost authors ; the first 
of American men of letters, Benjamin Franklin, 
had been Minister to France ; and after Irving, 
similar positions were to be held by Motley, 
and Bancroft, and Lowell. Irving accepted the 
appointment, and spent four years in Madrid, 
with occasional visits to Paris and to London. 
Then in 1846 he came home again, and settled 
down at Sunnyside for the last thirteen years of 
his happy life. 

Among the labors of these later years were 
the extending of an earlier and briefer biog- 
raphy of Goldsmith, an account of Mahomet 
and his contemporaries, and a volume of mis- 
cellanies, called " Wolfert's Roost," and con- 
taining sketches and stories like those in the 
" Sketch-Book " and the " Alhambra." Tarry- 
town is near New York, and Irving was a fre- 
quent visitor to the city of his birth. Curtis 
describes him as walking along Broadway with 
his head " slightly inclined to one side, the face 
. . . smoothly shaven," and the eyes " twink- 
ling " with kindly humor and shrewdness. There 
was a chirping, cheery, old-school air in the 
whole appearance. 

Washington Irving was at that time perhaps 
the best known of living Americans ; and he 

6 3 6 


was then engaged on the biography of the best 
known of all Americans alive or dead. The 
first volume of Irving's life of Washington ap- 
peared in 1855, and the work was completed in 
1859. Irving was doubtful about its reception, 
but it became instantly popular; it had a very 
large sale, and it was lauded by his fellow-his- 
torians. Bancroft praised the style, calling it 
" masterly, clear, easy." Prescott wrote : " You 
have done with Washington just as I thought 
you would, and, instead of a cold marble 
statue of a demigod, you have made him a be- 
ing of flesh and blood, like ourselves — one with 
whom we can have sympathy." 

In the year in which the final volume of the 
" Washington " was published, Irving died at 
Sunnyside on November 28, 1859, being then 
seventy-six years old. American men of letters 
are a long-lived race ; Franklin, Emerson, Bry- 

ant, and Whittier lived to be older than Irving, 
while Longfellow, Lowell, and Whitman were 
only a little younger at their deaths. Like Ir- 
ving they all died full of years and full of hon- 
ors ; they all had led happy lives. 

No later American writer has surpassed him 
in charm. Before Irving had discovered the 
beauty of the Hudson, the river was as lovely 
as it is to-day, but it was bare of legend. He 
it was who peopled the green nooks of Sleepy 
Hollow and the rocky crags of the Catskills. 
His genius was not stalwart or rugged, and it 
did not conquer admiration ; it won its way 
softly, by the aid of sentiment and of humor. 
" Knickerbocker's History," and the " Sketch- 
Book," and the " Alhambra," are his titles to 
fame ; not the " Columbus " or the " Washing- 
ton." His greatest work is the Knickerbocker 


By E. L. Sylvester. 

Suppose— sup-p-o-s-e— 
Well, just suppose 
Some day my mother 'd say, 
"You need n't go to school, my 

Just stay at home, and play. 
And here 's a box of choc'late 

(Or something quite as good). 
"Eat all you want !"— oh, just 

Suppose my mother should ! 

When hunting goes good King 

The people say it is great folly. C^-- 
^/ <L He '11 chase the lion round and 

:_Wj) round 

^^_j Through wood and street and 
open ground, 
Until, at last, he grabs its tail. 
Then, when the lion makes a 

And lifts his voice in sobs and 

The tears come in the good 

king's eyes; 
His sympathy is roused and so 
He lets the poor old lion go, 
And coming home, as you may see, 
Sits down and takes his toast and tea 

j/ ^uclol^ ^Bminet* 



By Charles G. D. Roberts. 

In the tiny office 
of the " Cunarder " 
inn the air was thick 
with smoke. The 
white egg-shaped 
stove contained a 
fire, though Septem- 
ber was yet young; 
for a raw night fog 
had rolled in over 
Halifax, mak- 
ing the display 
of bright coals 
no less com- 
forting than 
-*' cheerful. From 

the adjacent wharves came the soft washing 
and whispering of the tide, with an occasional 
rattle of oars as a boat came to land from one 
of the many ships. 

The density of the atmosphere in the office 
was chiefly due to " Al " Johnson, the diver, 
who when he was not talking, diving, eating, 
or sleeping, was sure to be puffing at his pipe. 
We had talked little, but now I resolved to 
turn off the smoke flowing from Johnson's 
pipe, by getting him to tell us a story. He 
could never tell a story and keep his pipe lit 
at the same time. 

Johnson was a college-bred man, whom a 
love of adventure had lured into deep-sea div- 
ing. He and his partner were at this time en- 
gaged in recovering the cargo of the steamer 
" Oelrich," sunk near the entrance to Halifax 

So I asked Johnson, " Do you remember 
promising me a yarn about an adventure you 
had in the pearl-fisheries ? " 

" Which adventure — and what pearl-fish- 
eries ? " Johnson asked. " I 've fished at Tin- 
nevelli, and in the Sulu waters off the Borneo 
coast, and also in the Torres Strait ; and where- 

soever it was, there seemed to be pretty nearly 
always some excitement going." 

" Oh," said I, " whichever you like to give 
us. I think what you spoke of was an adven- 
ture in the Torres Strait." 

" No," said Johnson, " I think I '11 give you 
a little yarn about a tussle I had with a turtle 
in the Sulu waters. I fancy there is n't much 
that grows, but you '11 find it somewhere in 
Borneo ; and the water there is just as full of 
life as the land." 

" Sharks ? " I queried. 

" Oh, worse than sharks ! " replied Johnson. 
" There 's a big squid that will squirt the water 
black as ink — and just then, perhaps, some- 
thing comes along and grabs you when you 
can't defend yourself. And there 's the devil- 
fish, own cousin to the squid, and the meanest 
enemy you 'd want to run across anywhere. 
And there 's a tremendous giant of a shell- 
fish — a kind of scalloped clam, that lies with 
its huge shells wide open, but half hidden in 
the long weeds and sea-mosses. If you put 
your foot into that trap, — snap / it closes on 
you, and you 're fast ! That clam is a good 
deal stronger than you are, and if you have not 
a hatchet or something to smash the shell with, 
you are likely to stay there. Of course, your 
partner in the boat up aloft would soon know 
something was wrong, finding that he could n't 
haul you up. Then he would go down after 
you and chop you loose, perhaps. But mean- 
while it would be far from nice, especially if 
a shark came along — if another clam does not 
nab him, for one of these big clams has been 
known to catch even a shark. Many natives 
thereabouts do a lot of diving on their own 
account, and, of course, don't indulge in div- 
ing-suits. I can tell you, they are very careful 
not to fall afoul of those clam-shells; for when 
they do, they 're drowned before they can get 




" You can hardly blame the clam, or what- 
ever it is," said I. " It must be rather a shock 
to its nerves when it feels a big foot thrust 
down right upon its stomach ! " 

" No," assented Johnson, " you can't blame 
the clam. But besides the clam, there is a 
big turtle that is a most officious creature, with 
a beak that will almost cut railroad iron. It is 
forever poking that beak into whatever it thinks 


it does n't know all about ; and you cannot 
scare it, as you can a shark. You have sim- 
ply got to kill it before it will acknowledge 
itself beaten. These same turtles, however, at 

the top of the water or on dry land would in 
most cases prove as timid as rabbits. And 
then, as you say, there are the sharks — all 
kinds, big and little, forever hungry, but not 
half so courageous as they get the credit of 

" I suppose," I interrupted, " you always car- 
ried a weapon of some sort ! " 

" Well, rather ! " said Johnson. " For my own 
part, I took a great fancy 
to the ironwood stakes that 
the natives always use. But 
they did n't seem to me 
quite the thing for smash- 
ing those big shells with, 
supposing a fellow should 
happen to put his foot into 
one. So I made myself a 
stake with a steel top, which 
answered every purpose. 
More than one big shark 
have I settled with that 
handspike of mine ; and 
once I found, to my great 
advantage, that it was just 
the thing to break up a 
shell with." 

" Ha, ha ! " laughed Best, 
who had been listening 
rather inattentively hither- 
to. " So you put your foot 
in it, did you ? " 

"Yes, I did," said John 

son. " And that is just what 

I 'm going to tell you about. 

I was working that season 

with a good partner, a likely 

young fellow hailing from 

Auckland. He tended the 

line and the pump to my 

complete satisfaction. I Ye 

never had a better tender. 

Also, I was teaching him 

to dive, and he took to it 

like a loon. His name was 

' Larry ' Scott ; and if he had 

lived, he would have made a record. He was 

killed about a year after the time I 'm telling 

you of, in a row down in New Orleans. But 

we won't stop to talk about that now. 




" As I was saying, Larry and I pulled to- 
gether pretty well from the start, and we were 
so lucky with our fishing that the fellows in 
the other boats began to get jealous and un- 
pleasant. You must know that all kinds go 
to the pearl-fisheries; and the worst kinds have 
rather the best of it, in point of numbers. We 
were ready enough to fight, but we liked best 
to go our own way peaceably. So, when some 
of the other lads got quarrelsome, we just 
smiled, hoisted our sail, and looked up a new 
ground for ourselves some little distance from 
the rest of the fleet. Luck being on our side 
just then, we chanced upon one of the finest 
beds in the whole neighborhood. 

" One morning, as I was poking about among 
the seaweed and stuff", I came across a fine- 
looking bunch of pearl-shells. I made 
a grab at them, but they were firmly 
rooted and refused to come away. I 
laid dow^n my handspike, took hold of 
the cluster with both hands, and shifted 
my foothold so as to get a good chance 
to pull. 

" Up came the bunch of shells at the 
first wrench, much more readily than I 
had expected. To recover myself I took 
a step backward; down went my foot 
into a crevice, ' slumped ' into some- 
thing soft, and snap / my leg was fast in 
a grip that almost made me yell, there 
in the little prison of my helmet. 

"Well, as you may imagine, just as 
soon as I recovered from the start this 
gave me, I reached out for my hand- 
spike to knock that clam-shell into 
flinders. But a cold shiver went over 
me as I found I could not reach the 
weapon ! As I laid it down it had 
slipped a little off to one side, and there 
it rested about a foot out of my reach, 
reclining on one of those twisted conch- 
shells such as the farmers use for dinner- 

" How I jerked on my leg, trying to 
pull it out of the trap ! That, however, 
only hurt the leg. All the satisfaction I 
could get was in the thought that my 
foot, with its big, twenty-pound rubber-and-lead 
boot, must be making the clam's internal affairs 

rather uncomfortable. After I had pretty well 
tired myself out, stretching and tugging on my 
leg, and struggling to reach the handspike, I 
paused to recover my wind and consider the 

" It was not very deep water I was working 
in, and there was any amount of light. You 
have no sort of idea, until you have been there 
yourself, what a queer world it is down where 
the pearl-oyster grows. The seaweeds were all 
sorts of colors, — or rather, I should say, they 
were all sorts of reds and yellows and greens. 
The rest of the colors of the rainbow you might 
find in the shells which lay around under foot 
or went crawling among the weeds; and away 
overhead darted and flashed the queerest look- 
ing fish, like birds in a yellow sky. There were 


lots of big anemones, too, waving, stretching, 
and curling their many-colored tentacles. 

i8 9 4] 



" I saw everything with extraordinary vivid- 
ness about that time, as I know by the clear 
way I recollect it now ; but you may be sure I 
was n't thinking much just then about the 
beauties of nature. I was trying to think of 
some way of getting assistance from Larry. At 
length I concluded I had better give him the 
signal to haul me up. Finding that I was stuck, 
he would, I reasoned, hoist the anchor, and then 
pull the boat along to the place of my cap- 
tivity. Then he could easily send me down a 
hatchet wherewith to chop my way to freedom. 

"Just as I had come to this resolve, a black 
shadow passed over my head, and I looked up 
quickly. It was a big turtle. I did n't like 
this, I can tell you; but I kept perfectly still, 
hoping the new-comer would not notice me. 

" He paddled along very slowly, with his 
queer little head stuck far out, and presently 
he noticed my air-tube. It seemed to strike 
him as decidedly queer. My blood fairly turned 
to ice in my veins, as I saw him paddle up and 
take a hold of it in a gingerly fashion with his 
beak. Luckily, he did n't seem to think it 
would be good to eat; but I knew that if he 
should bite it, I would be a dead man in about 
a minute, drowned inside my helmet like a rat 
in a hole. It is in an emergency like this that 
a man learns to know what real terror is. 

" In my desperation I stooped down and 
tore with both hands at the shells and weeds for 
something I might hurl at the turtle — thinking 
thus perhaps to distract his attention from my 
air-tube. But what do you suppose happened ? 
Why, I succeeded in pulling up a great lump 
of shells and stones all bedded together. The 
mass was fully two feet long. My heart gave a 
leap of exultation, for I knew at once just what 
to do with the instrument thus providentially 
placed in my hands. Instead of trying to hurl 
it at the turtle, I reached out with it, and 
managed to scrape that precious handspike 
within grasp. As I gathered it once more into 
my grip I straightened up and was a man again. 

"Just at this juncture the turtle decided to 
take a hand in. I had given the signal to be 
hauled up, at the very moment when I got 
hold of that lump of stones; and now I could 
feel Larry tugging energetically on the rope. 
The turtle left off fooling with the tube, and 
Vol. XXL— 81-82. 

paddling down to see what was making such 
a commotion in the water, he tackled me at 

"As it happened, however, he took hold of 
the big copper nut on the top of the head-piece; 
and that was too tough a morsel even for his 
beak, so all he could do was to shake me a bit. 
With him at my head and the clam on my leg, 
and Larry jerking on my waist-band, you may 
imagine I could hardly call my soul my own. 
However, I began jabbing my handspike, for 
all I was worth, into the unprotected parts of 
the turtle's body, feeling around for some vital 
spot, — which is a thing mighty hard to find in 
a turtle ! In a moment the water was red with 
blood ; but that made no great difference to 
me, and for a while it did n't seem to make 
much difference to the turtle, either. All I 
could do was to keep on jabbing, as close to the 
neck as I could, and between the front flippers. 
And the turtle kept on chewing at the copper 

" I believe it was the clam that helped me 
most effectually in that struggle. You see, that 
grip on my leg kept me as steady as a rock. 
If it had n't been for that, the turtle would have 
had me off my feet and end over end in no 
time, and would probably have soon got the 
best of me. As it was, after a few minutes of 
this desperate stabbing with the handspike, I 
managed to kill my assailant; but even in death 
that iron beak of his maintained its hold on the 
copper nut of my helmet. Having no means of 
cutting the brute's head off, I turned my atten- 
tion to the big clam, and with the steel point of 
my handspike I soon released my foot. 

" Then Larry hauled me up. He told me 
afterward he never in all his life got such a 
start as when that great turtle came to the sur- 
face hanging on to the top of my helmet. The 
creature was so heavy he could not haul it and 
me together into the boat; so he slashed the 
head off with a hatchet, and then lifted me 
aboard. Beyond a black-and-blue leg I was n't 
much the worse for that adventure ; but I was 
so used up with the excitement of it all that I 
would n't go down again for any more pearls 
that day. We took a day off, Larry and I, 
and indulged ourselves in a little run ashore." 

" You had earned it," said I. 

"The lily's face is fair 

and proud, 
But just a trifle cold; 

The rose, I think, is rather loud, 
And then, its fashion 's old. 


The violet is very well, 

But not a flower I 'd choose ; 
Nor yet the canterbury-bell,— 

I never cared for blues. 



"Petunias are by far too bright, The primrose only blooms at night, 

And vulgar flowers beside; And peonies spread too wide." 

And so it criticized each flower, 

This supercilious seed; 
Until it woke one summer hour, 

And found itself a weed. 


By Harriet F. Blodgett. 

HERE is May, sweet May, — all love her ! At her voice, the woodlands ring 

Scatter apple-blooms above her! 
Joyous May! She gives a nest 
To the waiting yellowbreast. 
Wheresoe'er her footsteps pass 
Blue-eyed blossoms deck the grass. 

With the music of the spring. 
Fast the brooklet runs to meet her, 
Leafy sprigs bend down to greet her. 
Listen now! — She comes this way. 
Bud and blossom! 'T is the May! 


By Mary Hallock Foote. 


, ESTER stood on the 
long veranda of her 
father's cabin, and 
watched the Doctor's 
horse coming swiftly 
across the sage-brush. 
First she saw a spurt 
of dust rise, where the 
plain dips toward the 
green river-valley. It grew and lengthened 
and unrolled enormously, like the smoke from 
the brazen jar when the fisherman unsealed 
it and set free the threatening genie. Soon 
the carriage was in sight ; it passed beneath 
the hill ; then two black ears of a horse's 
head appeared, where the steep road cuts into 
the hill. Hetty thought : " How glad Mother 
will be ; and what a good horse, to come so 
fast on such a hot, breezeless morning ! " 

The Doctor hitched his horse in the shadow 
of the long, low house : for all around was sun 
and dust — dust blowing loose or beaten hard; 
not a tree was in sight, though the view ex- 
tended for miles ; and the stable was below the 
hill, nearer to the well. 

Mr. Croly had placed his house on the high- 
est part of his land, for the sake of the breeze 
and the view, that the family might have 
something to look at while they were waiting 
for the " ditch." He was a desert settler, and 
some persons called a "company" were build- 
ing an irrigation ditch to bring water from the 
river. The company intended to sell the water 
to the settlers, who were obliged to have it, 
and to swear to it, before the Government 
would give them titles to their lands ; and as 
they were all very uncomfortable in their hot, 
unshaded cabins, on the bare and thirsty land, 
the settlers were impatient and felt they had 
waited a long time. 

It would not be easy to explain why all 

these people had come, in quest of homes, to 
a country where rain ceases for six or eight 
months of the year; where water for crops must 
be purchased, like wood and coal — when there 
are green fair lands, wanting hands to till them, 
where rain is abundant, and rivers and woods 
show what rain can do to beautify our world. 
But some of these desert settlers had suffered 
in other ways than through lack of water : 
some of them had suffered from too much water 
that had come in floods, and drowned them out, 
and swept away all that they had ; some had 
been " grasshopper sufferers " ; some had come 
to escape " the chills." Most of them had 
been unfortunate in one way or another; and 
many were merely restless men who never 
stayed in any place, but tried all climates and 
ways of getting a living, always hoping to find 
a way of getting one without working for it. 
But the best of them were, like Hester's father, 
men to whom difficulties have a certain attrac- 
tion ; strong, hopeful men of their hands, with 
courage to conquer a home out of the desolate 
waste places ; men who lived to work, and to 
feel that where they had lived and worked that 
country was the better for their living. 

David Croly had said it so often that his lit- 
tle daughter Hetty had the words almost by 
heart : 

" If I can leave behind me six hundred and 
forty acres of good, kind land, where I found 
six hundred and forty acres of bitter sage-brush 
desert, I shall feel I have done something like 
a man's work : whether there 's a fortune in it 
or not." 

The Doctor asked Hetty who was sick at the 
house, and where her mother was. And, in 
answer to her shy question, he told her, with 
a smile, that the name of his new horse was 
" Lady." 

She was a beauty as well as a lady. She 
was no cayuse, nor mustang, nor scraggy Texan 
pony; she had come from a "grass country." 



She was kind and graceful and intelligent, as a 
thoroughbred should be. Though she panted, 
and her sides and neck were glossy with sweat, 
she was yet polite. She permitted Hetty to 
stroke her straight nose, and to part the thin 
forelock away from her large, bright eyes, with- 
out one impatient toss. 

Hetty considered with herself as a hostess : 
" What can I do by way of pleasing this beau- 
tiful dear, while her master is caring for little 
sick sister Martha ? " 

It would not do to offer her water; Hetty 
was horsewoman enough to know that every 
good master attends to that himself. She would 
have liked to comfort her with sugar ; but the 
"square sugar" was kept in the dining-room cup- 
board, and little girls were not allowed to help 
themselves, and mother must not be disturbed. 

Then Hetty thought of a treat of her own : 
the sweet, dry clover-heads she had culled from 
the hay, for her dolls' horses, only the day be- 
fore. She ran to the red closet at the end of the 
piazza, which was the dolls' house. 

The dolls lived on the shelf-rooms, the first 
and second and third "floors," or shelves, and 
the stable was in the basement, or bottom of 
the closet. Here stood the dolls' horses, with 
the clover still in their mangers. "Prince" and 
"Proudie" were their names: Prince, because 
he came first and was the prince of horses ; 
Proudie, because he held his head so grandly, 
like a charger in pictures of battles. 

" Whoa ! " Hetty called to them, in her deep- 
est voice. Neither of the dolls' horses was mak- 
ing the least disturbance, but the warning was 
a sensible precaution of Hetty's, since she had 
come to rob their mangers. 

" You shall have plenty more to-night," she 
said, "and horses must not be always eating." 

With that she carried away all their clover, — 
nearly a double handful, — and Lady ate it, out 
of Hetty's pink apron. 

The noble mare was just as gracious and friend- 
ly as if she had been served by Hetty all her life. 
She nuzzled and breathed great breaths in the 
hollow of the apron; and Hetty had hard work, 
laughing so, to hold fast while that dear creature 
bumped about in its strong, careless, horsy way. 

Some crushed bits of the dry blossom fell into 
the dust, but Lady had gotten the most of it. 


Then the Doctor came out, and Hetty's 
mother was with him, looking worried, as she 
often did. 

The Doctor was saying some words about 
" a change." 

" Can't you send her East," he said, " amongst 
your relatives, somewhere? " 

" Our relatives are two thousand miles away, 
the nearest ones; and how could she go — a 
child of that age ! No, if she goes, it means 
that we all go; or it means that I go with the 
children and leave my husband." 

" That, of course, is for you to decide. I 
dare say it is hard. But she has had tonics 
enough. Take her to a grass country. That 
is my advice." 

The mother sighed : " This will be a grass 
country in another year, we hope. They have 
promised the water next spring. If we can 
hold out till then, Doctor, the ' change ' will 
come to us." 

" Have n't you heard — "the Doctor began; 
and then he stopped, and his face looked 
" sorry," Hetty thought. 

Hester joyfully told little Martha how Lady 
had eaten up all the dolls' horses' clover; and 
both little girls laughed to think how Lady's 
nose went bobbing into the pink apron; and 
Hetty showed the damp smears that were left 
from that free and easy luncheon. 

Martha was not ill abed, but she had fever 
in the afternoons, and she would not eat. A 
very little play tired her, and then she would 
fling herself down and cry for something dif- 
ferent — something she could not have. And 
she was thin and dark, and when her lips 
parted a dry shriveled line showed inside the 
red. Any little thing that was new pleased her. 

That afternoon, Hetty's father brought a load 
of clean white sand from the river-beach, and 
spread it down, in a long strip, in front of the 
veranda where the house-shadow lay. He 
dampened it down with water from the well, 
and spread more sand and dampened that down. 
By next morning it was dry and hard; the wind 
could not blow it away; and by the time the 
shadow again lay over it, the children's beach 
was ready. They called it the " South Shore." 

" It looks rather small, to us," Hetty ad- 
mitted ; " but the dolls must think it grand. 




It must be the ' Great South Shore ' to them. 
And now we can lie down anywhere, and not 
mind about our stockings and petticoats." 

Mother was as pleased as the children ; for 
indeed the stockings and petticoats had been 
dreadful. And little Martha's face cleared like 
sunshine, as she patted the cool white sand. 

" It is so clean ! " she cried. She was a 
dainty, fastidious child, born with a full-grown 
woman's loathing of " matter out of place." 

While the novelty lasted, and while the sand 
was pure and hard, the South Shore was al- 
most as good as a " change " for the little ner- 
vous invalid. The children dug holes in it, and 
filled them with water, and called them wells. 
They planted sprigs of sage for orchards, and 

watered them from the wells ; and they made 
roads and ditches, all in the hard-baked sand. 
But, after a week or so, the digging and trotting 
broke up the fair surface of the beach, and 
there was no tide to rise and spread fresh sand 
upon it. Instead, the wind-storms came, charg- 
ing up the dry slopes, and strewed the dust of the 
plains over the South Shore, and it was buried. 
But something came of it, after it had been 
quite given up — something that had not been 
looked for. 

One morning Hetty was out before breakfast, 
leaning over the wooden parapet of the ve- 
randa, looking for one of the doll's tea-cups 
which she had dropped, just at bedtime, the 
evening before. 

She stared and stared, and thought she must 
be dreaming ; for, of all things in the world to 
have come on such a spot! she saw — not the 
tea-cup, but the tender, close-folded points 
of a cluster of green baby-clovers prick- 
ing through the crusted sand, where 
the last contrary wind had swept 
it bare. Positively, the ground 
was cracked and upheaved by 
the force of their gentle coming ! 
The clovers grew and throve, 
where no hand had planted, in 
the very footprints of the chil- 
dren's happy play ; as if their 
farming had been real farm- 
- ing, and the play-ditches had 
done their work. Morning 
S and evening, Hetty water- 

% ed her crop, and forgot 
that it was here she had 
fed the Doctor's Lady. 
She did not remember, nor 
would she have been the 
happier for knowing, that 
she had sowed the seed 

Somehow, without tak- 
ing her into its confi- 
dence, there arrived a four-leaved clover in the 
midst of the parent bunch. It was full grown 
when Hetty saw it first. One leaf was a trifle 
smaller than the others, but they were a perfect 
four ; and Hetty believed it had come as a 
promise and a token of success to her father's 

i8 94 .] 



claim. But she kept the secret of her luck -crop 
from Martha till the morning of her sister's 

On that day, while Martha still lay sleeping, 
Hetty gathered her entire harvest while it was 
yet green, leaf by leaf, and placed it all in a 
clear glass of water where Martha could see it 
when she woke : the gallant four-leaved one 
was in the center, with the longest stem of 
them all. 

Martha had no other birthday bouquet, but 
she was quite satisfied. She was happy for 
hours, taking her clovers out, one by one, and 
putting them back again in the glass; some- 
times she piled them in a stack and set the 
Noah's ark animals round about it, and 
played — at Hetty's suggestion — that it was 
the first grass they had seen since they were 
set free from the gloomy ark. She studied the 
pretty leaves, gazing into their little round 
faces, printed, toward the stem, with that mys- 
terious heart-shaped pattern penciled in white 
across the center fold. Clover-leaves are as 
rare as nightingales, on a desert claim; and 
Martha could remember no other home. 

By night, all the fairy luck-crop was withered, 
from overmuch handling by those hot, eager 
little hands; but the mother had saved the four- 
leaved clover and pressed it in the big Bible, 
between the leaves of the family record, over 
against the children's names and the dates of 
their births. 

Hetty was an observing child : she noticed 
that in these days of the latter end of summer 
her father and mother seemed much dispirited. 
Happy plans, that had been talked of in the 
spring, were talked of no more : such as tree- 
planting and ditch-building and laying out of 
roads. No more was said about crops or 
ditches. Her mother's face was sad as she 
sat writing those long "home letters" to their 
friends in the East ; and father stayed about the 
house and seemed to have little to do; and both 
parents talked together in their bedroom, at 
night, or in the early morning, and sometimes 
Hetty, waking, heard the murmur of their 
voices, and knew by the sound that those were 
not happy talks. 

"Are they so anxious about Martha ? " Hetty 
wondered. And sitting up in bed she gazed at 

her sister, where she lay, sleeping heavily in the 
strong, white light. The flies were troubling her 
rest, and Hetty set herself to keep them away, 
while she watched the pale little sleeper. She 
noted the vein in the side of her small, sal- 
low neck — how fast it beat; and she thought: 
" Martha must be wasting away. She must be 
going to die." 

The thought came as a great shock to Hetty. 
It took all her strength to stifle the sound of her 
sudden, uncontrollable sobbing. But she asked 
no questions. "They will tell me when the time 
comes," she thought; "and Mother must dread 
to tell me." Hetty was, as her mother often 
said, "a born eldest daughter," — born to take 
thought for others and to suppress herself: a 
little vice-mother, with a pathetic, childish igno- 
rance added to perplex her early maternal cares. 
Many a mother blesses in her prayers such a 
little "eldest" as Hetty. 

She tried, now, to awake every morning early, 
to keep the flies away from Martha, who could 
not bear the stifling net, and who tossed all the 
early part of the night and needed to sleep late; 
and she set her mind at work to invent plays 
and stories that should make Martha forget how 
long were the hot summer days, with the dry 
dust- winds blowing, and the sky one wide, pale, 
pitiless glare. 

The family were on the piazza one evening 
in the red dusk after sunset ; but the breeze 
held off. The mother was rocking Martha, who 
lay across her lap — a slender child, with long 
limbs and large, weary eyes. She was in her 
night-dress, for it was past her bedtime, but she 
could not sleep for the heat. 

Hetty sat on the low step and watched 
a most remarkable display of dust-streamers 
lengthening in the valley. A procession of 
heavy wagons was moving out toward the rail- 
road. By the long string of black dots ahead 
of them, and by the height and hooded shape 
of the great wagons, Hetty knew them for 
"freighters"; but it was a good while since 
she had seen so many mule-teams on the 
road, all traveling the same way. 

"There they go," said her father; "and 1 
wish they were heading the other way." 

" Who are they ? " Hetty inquired. 

" The contractors' outfits, from the Big Ditch." 




" Where are they going ? " 

" Moving out of the country. The Big Ditch 
has shut down." 

"What did you say, Father?" cried Hetty. 
" Does that mean they are n't going to build it concerns us a good deal." 
after all ? " " Our last year! " cried Hetty. 

Hetty knew quite well what such a catastro- our land, then ? " 
phe as that would mean. " Not unless we can carry out our sworn in- 

" Some day, perhaps, when they get ready." tention to bring water upon it within three 

quarreling amongst themselves as to whose fault 
it is, and they can't keep their promises to the 
settlers — not this year. And as this is our last 
year on this land, unless we get the water, it 

Is n't this 


" Why don't you tell her, Father, now you 've 
begun, and not keep her guessing?" Mrs. 
Croly remonstrated. She began hushing little 
Martha, who was trying to sit up, the better to 
listen to the talk. 

" All we know, Daughter, is that the com- 
pany's money has given out again, and they are 

years from the time we took it up. The three 
years will be up in May. And the water will 
not be here." 

" And then what shall we do ? " asked Hetty. 

" That's as Mother says," Mr. Croly answered; 
and he looked at his wife, who sat silent. 

" Your mother has the right to file on this 
claim and hold it another three years, after my 
right expires. But she is tired of waiting for 

i8 9 4-J 



" I am tired of waiting for no water," said 
Mrs. Croly. " And we cannot wait, because the 
Doctor says it is making little Martha sick." 
She spoke to Hetty, and then she looked at 
her husband and said : " I wonder you can ask 
me ! You heard what he said." 

" I heard, but I don't believe a word of it. 
A doctor always lays it to the climate when he 
is puzzled by a case. Look at Hetty, there. 
Why is n't she sick? Mother, it is all nonsense ! 
I can show you children by the dozen, running 
about in the sage-brush — born and raised in 
it — as healthy as jack-rabbits. It 's a new 
idea to me that sun, and pure air, and earth as 
new as it can be, are n't wholesome." 

" I could wait," said Mrs. Croly, " if Martha 
seemed like herself, or if there was any sure 
prospect of our getting the water. But I will 
never believe any of this company's promises 
again. They have promised and promised, 
year after year, and every one who has trusted 
them has lost by them. This year the water 
was coming, sure — and where is it? Now, I 
say, it is time we took these children back to 
' God's country.' I don't believe in a country 
made by a company." 

" Why, Mother, you don't seem to count my 
work as anything, nor the land and the climate. 
We are not beholden to a company for them — 
nor the choice of the land. There is n't such 
another tract between here and Salt Lake! 
I do hate to lose it. I think it 's all a notion 
about little Martha. Wait till it 's cooler. You 
will see; she will pick up all right. Hot wea- 
ther is hot weather, go where you will ; and lit- 
tle children pine with it, right in the woods 
and by the sea-shore. You 're sick yourself, 
Mother, and I don't wonder; but wait till it 's 

" Yes, wait till we dry up and blow away, 
like the wild seeds, anywhere the wind will let 
us lie ! No, Father ; I want a home. If it 's 
ever so small, I want it sure. And I want to 
see my children playing on the grass again, with 
green boughs over their heads. If there is a 
thing we can call our birthright, in this world, 
surely it is the grass and trees. We have no 
right to defraud our children, and keep them 
here, in the dust and glare, with the hot winds 
drying up their blood, and the sun scorching 

their faces till you 'd never know what race 
they belong to — just for the sake of some day, 
if the company 's willing, calling a great, big, 
lonesome tract of land our own." 

" Lonesome ! " echoed Mr. Croly, who was 
an enthusiast, and had now been attacked on 
a vital point of his faith. " I guess the plains 
around Denver were lonesome, in 1880; and it 
was n't two years before the city marched 
right out and over 'em, and you can't buy an 
acre of that sage-brush now for the price of 
a whole farm in the valley of the Hudson." 

" Yes, yes ; I 've heard it all," said the mo- 
ther. " But those fortunes people have to pay 
for. It is n't meant we should get something 
for nothing in this world. And I 'm not will- 
ing to risk this child's life — no, nor a year of 
her life, wasted in sickness — for any fortune that 
ever was named." 

" Well, then, I don't see but we must go our 
separate ways, Mother, for the children's sake," 
said Mr. Croly. " I am not willing to throw 
away my work and my waiting : that belongs 
to the children, too ; and some day they will 
thank me. I shall stay, and if I can't prove 
up on this land, I '11 work till I can afford to 
buy some other man's title. There will be 
plenty of discouraged ones, like you, who will 
want to get out of the country — soon as the 
news gets round the Ditch crowd is getting 
ready to lie down. I 've looked at a good 
many countries, and this looks to me the best 
of any, and I 'm going to stay right with it till 
the water comes. If one company can't fetch 
it, another will. But you can take that money 
I laid by to prove up with, and go back with 
the children to Genesee, if so be you think 
you must. But I guess you '11 find it some 
hot, even there." 

Hetty's tears were falling by this time, and 
her mother had hidden her face, and was pat- 
ting Martha nervously, with her thin hand on 
which the veins showed so plainly. 

Hetty understood it all, as a woman might : 
she sympathized with her mother, and knew 
how she must feel about Martha; she agreed 
with her father, too, and in her young hopeful- 
ness she believed in the country of his choice. 
She wondered if her mother knew how happy 
they — the children — had been on that land 



which was called a desert. Hetty loved the 
great bare mesa, with the winds blowing over 
it and the whole of the sky above it. She 
could not tell it in words, but she felt the joy 
of those clear, spring mornings, when the moun- 
tains piled in turquoise blue against the far 
bright north; she felt the rich sadness of the 
deep-colored summer twilights, and the mys- 
tery of the wide, dark, starlight nights when 
the farthest land looked like an unknown sea. 
Martha was too young, perhaps, to care about 
skies and mountains, or to know that she cared ; 
but Martha had been happy as a bird, that 
spring, when the sage-brush bonfires were blaz- 
ing all over the hill, and they ran from one 
to another, dancing the " fire-dance," as they 
called it — fanning them with boughs and beat- 
ing out the scattering flames. And did Mother 
know what a pleasure it was to hunt strange 
wild-flowers, and to give them names, and 
wonder what manner of flower each new bud 
would become, as if the world were new and 
they its child-discoverers ? Hetty had named 
the desert-flowers, and marked the place of 
each, that she might know it wdien its blossoms 
and leaves were withered. She had gathered 
the seeds and dug the bulbs with infinite labor 
and pains, that she might plant them all, in 
a wild garden of her own, when the plow 
should have uprooted them from their native 
homes ; and she had counted on surprising 
them with such a bounty of water as these 
children of the desert had never known before. 

She was a hospitable child, and hospitality 
is the first law of all desert-dwellers. 

Hetty had never found it lonesome in the 
desert. Did Mother know how many little 
creatures lived there — in holes and nests and 
burrows, making shy, winding roads through 
the pygmy sage-forest to their "claims"? Hetty 
knew their tiny footprints, in the dust or in the 

( To be con 

snow ; she knew their notes and cries and calls, 
and had a fellowship with them all, — even with 
the outlawed coyotes, who yelled at night like a 
pack of crazy dogs. And down the line of her 
father's wire fence, morning and evening, came 
a band of range-horses on their way to the 
river to drink. They had been used to travel 
across her father's land to water, but now the 
fence obliged them to go a far way round. 
Hetty used to apologize to them for this en- 
croachment on their liberties, when she fore- 
gathered with them at the fence. She knew all 
the mothers, and delighted in the long-tailed 
colts, and they knew her little figure in bright 
colors by the fence. 

Why, then, was this not God's country, 
even though the grass withered and the flowers 
faded because the sun's eye was so bright ? 
Hetty did not shrink from the sunshine. 

But there was little Martha, who needed the 
shade. Mother and the Doctor must know 
best about Martha. Surely they must know. 
If but the water could be made to come ! She 
thought of the stories in the Bible, and wished 
that they had been of the "chosen people," 
that water might be sent them by a special act: 
whereas, they were left to the mercies of a com- 
pany, whose money was always giving out. 
She prayed that night a prayer which she felt 
to be foolish, perhaps wrong, since God could 
not need reminding; but it came from the heart 
with one long, stifled ache, in whispers that no 
one heard : 

Would God but please to give them water, 
and let the grass grow ; that Martha might be 
well ; that they might stay upon the land her 
father had chosen, and not be parted, east and 
west, father here and mother there ? 

We shall see what happened before the fifth 
of May, which was the date on which her fa- 
ther's time expired. 




" I wish you 'd be more careful, dear," 
Euphemia heard her mother say ; 

" I put a nice clean blotter here 
Day before yesterday." 

Euphemia was a naughty child ; 

She saw the blots, she tossed her head ; 
And then she actually smiled, 

And this is what she said : 

"The blotter 's there for folks to blot; 
I have n't stained the desk at all ! 
And each one 's such a little spot — 
You see they 're very small ! " 

That night Euphemia dreamed a dream : 
She wandered through secluded spots, 

And then (her mother heard her scream), 
She met a Mob of Blots. 

They grinned, they leered, they winked, they 

The fattest of them wagged his ears, 
And said : " Just look at that small child ! 

She made you all, my dears ! " 

This was too much, and with a scream 
She woke. For days she never smiled. 

And since the dreaming of that dream, 
She is the neatest child ! 


By Garrett Newkirk. 

' Copyright, 1894, by Garrett Newkirk. All rights reserved. 


NOTE.— The State of Maine in shape resembles a drum-major's cap ; and the State of New Hampshire 
is, in form, not unlike the head of a tomahawk. For the rhyme about New Hampshire see next page. 





;»f«-' ' 

New-. Hampshire. 

"The Granite State," sharp pointed north, 
Has mountains called the White, 
Because the snow upon their tops 
So often makes them bright. 

This is a pleasant State wherein 

Thro' summer-time to dwell ; 
The air is sweet, the nights are cool, 

The people treat you well. 

Six thousand feet Mount Washington 

Stands higher than the sea, 
And from the top a wondrous view 

Is had one day in three.* 

A large amount of granite stone, 

Of color blue or gray, 
Is taken from the quarries here 

To cities far away. 

* Much of the time a dense mist surrounds the top of the mountain. 


By Agnes Lewis Mitchill. 

It lay for a long time on the edge of the 
little brook, deep in the forest, sparkling like a 
tiny flame in the sunlight, and growing still 
in the dusk like the bright eye of some fairy 
hidden in the grass. 

One day, when a very bright sunbeam danced 
to and fro across it, the tortoise stopped to look 
curiously at it. He was a slow fellow at his 
best, and lingered so long that Bunny stopped, 
too, to see what it could be ; and the squirrel 
from the fence-rail gave up scolding at the 
crows to ask them what was to be seen. The 
crows themselves are famous for chattering, so 
in less time than I can tell it, they had spread 
the news to all the forest-creatures. 

"It 's not good to eat," said the tortoise; 
" for I tasted it, and it 's hard and cold." 

" You cannot bite it, anyway," said Bunny. 
" I would much rather have a carrot." 

" If it were a nut it would have a shell," said 
the squirrel; "but I see it is not that." 

" It might be a new kind of corn," said the 
crows, and one of them flew down to peck 
at it. 

" Pshaw ! " said he, " it is harder than a stone, 
and nothing like a kernel of corn ; we can do 
nothing with it ! " 

" It is certainly very pretty," said the robin; 
" but I could not make a nest of it, and I for 
one would much rather have a cherry." 

" Perhaps the owl can tell us what it is," 

meekly suggested the mole ; " I found it under 
the soil when I was digging out my burrow." 

So the squirrel was sent to waken the owl, 
who sat dozing in his home in the hollow tree. 

Down he came, stumbling, blinking sleepily, 
and yawning. 

"Here is something — "said Bunny. "Yel- 
low!" put in the crows all together. "Hard," 
said the tortoise. " Very bright and shiny," said 
the squirrel. " And no use to any one of us," 
said the mole. " What is it ? " 

" Don't all talk at once," yawned the owl. 
" What a stupid set you are ! I know what 
it is ; gold ! " 

Just then a footstep rustled the dry leaves, 
and all the forest-folk scampered away to hide. 
Peeping out they saw a man walking slowly 
along the brook. Just then his eye fell on the 
glittering little ball ; and crying out for joy he 
seized it eagerly, turned it over and over in the 
sunlight, and after hiding it carefully in his 
breast hurried away. 

"Well, I never! " chattered the squirrel, run- 
ning from his hiding-place in the oak-tree. 
"He seemed to know what to do with it!" 

And all the crows fluttered away to tell of 
the strange treasure found by the brook. 

" The owl is a wonderful fellow ! " said the 
mole. " He seems to see everything. I sup- 
pose it is because his eyes are so big. But I wish 
I had thought to ask him what it is good for ! " 


I looked from my window, 

And, dancing together, 
I spied three queer people 
Who love the wet weather. 
The turtle, the frog, and the duck all joined 

To caper so gaily upon the wet sands. 

The turtle was coated 

In shell, to defy 
The pattering rain-drops, 

And keep him quite dry. 

The frog in green jacket was gay as 
could be, 
"My coat will shed water — just see it!" 
said he. 

The duck shook his web-feet 
And ruffled his feathers ; 

Cried he, " Rain won't hurt me ! 

" I 'm dressed for all weathers. 
And when I can see the clouds frown in 

the sky 
I oil my gray feathers and keep very dry!" 


^^UM^hlnlHiLil.^V'l'm l.i,;iu,ai!V.: .Ll!« , .t.,,1, ;„:,; . |i, .■■niilll i.h ii!,;ilL|;|i.,ipiili : : V 




By Benjamin Webster. 

Agnes was only six years old, but her sister 
was grown up, and was an artist. Agnes liked 
to go to the studio where her sister Violet 
made pictures, for there were queer hats and 
coats and gowns about the room. Agnes 
would put these on and play that she was a 
queen or a princess or a fairy. One day she 
found a big hat that once had belonged to 
a soldier years and years ago — before Agnes, 
or her father, or her grandfather was born. 
The little girl put on the great hat, and played 
that she. was the queen of the fairies — "Queen 
Mab." But she could not find a wand. Her 
sister said, " No matter about a wand. You 
can pretend that you left it at home." 

" No," said Agnes, " I must have a wane 1 . 
S'pose I was to meet a bad fairy ? Why, she 
could change me into a frog, maybe ! " 

" That would never do," said her sister. 
" Here," and she gave Agnes an old umbrella, 
" here is the finest golden wand in the world. 
See what a bright tip it has ! It gleams like 
a star when the sun shines on it." 

So Agnes took the umbrella, and played 
that she was at a fairy court. And her sister 

thought the little girl looked pretty in the old 
hat, and asked her to stand still while her pic- 
ture was drawn. For some time Agnes was 
as stiff and quiet as a ninepin, but then her 
hands were tired, and she dropped the umbrella 
on the floor. 

" Queen Mab puts down her wand, some- 
times ! " she said. 

" But you must keep your hands the same 
way," said her sister ; " I am nearly done. 
Hold something not so heavy." 

" I '11 hold my skirt, then," said Agnes, and 
she caught up one edge of it. 

Soon her sister finished the first drawing, 
and in it Agnes looked tired, but as if she 
meant to be very good and to keep still; and 
so she did, for she hoped some day to see 
tru picture in St. Nicholas. 

Ag. ?s had to put on the old hat several 
times on • her days ; but when the picture was 
done, Agnes as glad, and she wanted to give 
it a name. She called it, "A Little Girl With 
a Big Hat On " ; bat her sister called it, " The 
Artist's Daughter," which was a finer name, 
but was make-believe instead of real. 


By Frank H. Sweet. 

" If you find the nest," said Farmer Brown, 

With a twinkle in his eye, 
" You shall have the nicest thing in town ' 

That a dollar bill will buy. 
But, mind you, it won't be children's play, 

For that sly old turkey-hen 
Has often stolen her nest away, 
And has puzzled all my men." 

Across the fields and into the wood, 
And down by the running brook, 

Among the logs where the old mill stood, 
Into every kind of nook ; 
Vol. XXL— 83. 657 

And, one by one, they gave up the -quest — 

Bobbie and Jack and Fred : 
We never could find that turkey's nest, 

If we searched a month," they said. 

The fields were wide and the hills were steep 

And the baby's years were few, 
And she lagged behind and went to sleep 

Where the alder-bushes grew. 
And the turkey did not see her guest, 

As she sought her eggs, to set ; 
So baby awoke and found the nest — 

And the folks are wondering yet. 


The cat was so very highly regarded in England at 
one time, both as a rat- and mouse-catcher and as an 
ornament to society, that we find the following law passed 
by one of the princes of Wales : 

If any one steal or kill a Cat that guards the Prince's Granary, he 
is to forfeit a milch Ewe, its Fleece and Lamb. Or, as much Wheat 
as, when poured upon the cat suspended from its tail, with the head 
touching the floor, would form a heap high enough to cover the tip 
of the former. 

Though the Welsh had a high opinion of the cat, the 
ancient Egyptians held them still higher. This intelligent 
and civilized people treated cats with great distinction. 
It was a crime to kill them, and when they died they 
received a public burial, at which the people mourned, 
having first shaved off their eyebrows as a token of 
sorrow. The most prominent cats were, upon death, 
embalmed in drugs and spices, and cat mummies have 
been found side by side with those of kings. When 
Cambyses, the Persian, attacked the Egyptian city of 
Pelusis, he cunningly provided his soldiers with cats 
instead of shields. When the host advanced, the 
Egyptians retired in confusion upon discovering that 
they would be unable to do damage to their enemy with- 
out seriously imperiling the lives of vast numbers of 
cats. And so the city was taken easily, and without the 
loss of blood or of a cat. It cannot be disputed that the 
ancient Egyptian cats must have enjoyed life very 
much. — St. Lout's Post- Dispatch. 


A fierce battle for life, between a large spider and a 
wasp, was witnessed by a fifteenth-ward man in his gar- 
den one day last summer. The spider had spread her 
web in a corner of the fence and was patiently waiting for 
something to turn up. Suddenly a wasp flew into the 
web. He was firmly caught, but his desperate efforts to 
escape tore several holes in the flimsy network about 
him. Here the spider rushed out and rapidly began to 
repair the breaks. The wasp fought harder still, and 
seemed to be trying to get a chance to sting his sly foe. 

In a minute or two the wasp lay perfectly still, as if 
dead. The spider rushed out and seized the body of her 

victim. The wasp, who had apparently been playing 
possum, suddenly became very much alive, and in a flash 
spider and wasp were clasped in a deathlock. There was 
a short, fierce struggle, and bolh insects fell from the dil- 
apidated web to the ground. They lay there quite still, 
and the interested spectator, stooping over them, found 
that both were dead. — Philadelphia Pecord. 


A remarkable token of the importance of the toy in- 
dustry in the ancient city of Nurembergis afforded by the 
great gathering in one of the public halls, at a banquet in 
celebration of the completion of the 300,000th model steam- 
engine by a well-known maker. Among the guests were 
the heads of the municipality and of several industrial 
and commercial corporations. The little model which 
marks this stage in the toy-making industry of the Nu- 
remberg firm was constructed with the latest improve- 
ments. It was adorned with a laurel wreath, and exhib- 
ited in the hall side by side with a model of the date 1815, 
in order to show the progress in construction. It is said 
that this factory alone has also turned out more than 
325,000 magic-lanterns. — Exchange. 


On Tuesday last, in less than 270 minutes, " Punch," 
a sturdy carrier-pigeon (perhaps some of you know him), 
flew 200 miles, carrying seven messages from the school- 
ship " Saratoga" to Philadelphia. He was sent off at ten 
o'clock in the morning, and was found in his own loft at 
2:30 in the afternoon. It was Punch who beat all other 
records last September, when he brought a letter from a 
naval officer on the cruiser " New York" to his wife at 
Bryn Mawr. He covered a distance of 200 miles in less 
than 197 minutes. — New York World. 


Heinrich Mehrman, the well-known trainer, talks 
interestingly of his experience with the lions. He began 
to train lions when he was no longer a young man, 
and soon learned the secret of how to master them. He 
has succeeded in acquiring a control that is almost 
unique among his fellows. 

It is a recognized principle of many animal-trainers 
that the human eye is a chief factor in holding the beasts 
in subjection. To Mr. Mehrman this help seems un- 
necessary. He explained his methods in this to-day : 

" Of course, an animal must be treated kindly ; but 
one of the greatest requisites of an animal-trainer is ab- 
solute self-confidence. Without this he cannot have 
anything like control over his savage beasts. Now I 
do not mean to say for a moment that I always have the 
requisite amount of self-confidence. I know that I have 
not, and when I am lacking in that respect something is 
sure to happen. Animals are shrewd observers, and they 
detect anything of that kind more quickly than you would 
imagine. The other night some little thing went wrong, 




and my attention was distracted. One of my big lions 
immediately noticed this, and when I went to cow him 
he turned on me, clawed my coat half off my back, and 
made a great scratch on my arm. The great danger 
from such an occurrence is that when a man has trouble 
with one animal the others are very apt to try to help 
their mate. As soon as one of the lions becomes unruly 
you may see the lions and the tigers exchange glances; 
all they want then is a leader, and every one of them 
would be at me. The successful animal-trainer cannot 
smoke much ; he should have little or nothing to do with 
spirits, and must take the very best possible care of his 
physical condition, so as to keep the mind perfectly clear. 
Hundreds of men have been seriously injured by wild 
animals, but I believe it is always their own fault." — 
Evening Post, N. Y. 


"We have a canary at our home," said a gentleman from 
Lincoln, Nebraska, a few days ago, "that is considered 
by the family to be just about as smart as they make 
them. I '11 tell you why we think so. The bird-cage 
hangs in a room in which there is a large coal-stove. One 
afternoon we were all going out for a short while, and as 
the fire was low my wife filled the stove with coal and 
turned on the draft, expecting to be home before the fire 
got too hot. We were gone some time longer than we 
had expected, however, and when we returned the room 
was like a furnace, and the stove red-hot. My wife's 
first thought was of the bird, and upon looking up at the 
cage and not seeing him, concluded at once that he had 
been suffocated by the intense heat. She immediately 
got a chair and climbed up to look into the cage, fully 
expecting to see the poor bird stretched out on the floor, 
dead. Such was far from being the case, however. In- 
stead, there he was sitting down flat in his bathtub, with 
only his head, which he would now and then dip into the 
water, exposed to the furnace-like heat of the room." — 
St. Louis Globe-Democrat. 


The " drunkard's cloak," now on exhibition in this city 
among other instruments of torture, is one of the many 
worn by the soldiers in Cromwell's army. The cloak is 
almost an exact counterpart of a big wooden churn. This 
wooden shirt was slipped over the tippler's head, while 
his face was covered with a wire cage. Thus attired he 
was set forth upon the street to be hooted at. — New York 


Boise, Idaho, March 3. — A remarkable story of a ride 
upon an avalanche comes from Atlanta, in the Sawtooth 
Mountains. Generally when a man is caught in a snow- 
slide he is buried, and either crushed or smothered to 
death ; but in this case the imperiled man actually rode 
the avalanche half a mile and came out alive. Charles 
Goetz was hunting in the mountains near Atlanta, when 
the snow started under his feet. He was unable to ex- 
tricate himself from the moving mass, and in a few mo- 
ments he was being carried along upon the breast of a 
roaring avalanche. The slide rushed down into a rocky, 
precipitous canon, but Goetz went through alive. He 
was found eleven hours afterward by a rescuing party, 
and, though terribly bruised, he is in a fair way to re- 
covery. — Chicago Herald. 


THE question is often asked : " Where do sea-birds 
obtain fresh water to slake their thirst ? " But we have 
never seen it satisfactorily answered until a few days 
ago. An old skipper with whom we were conversing 
on the subject said that he had seen these birds at sea 
far from any land that could furnish them water hovel ing 
around and under a storm-cloud, clattering like ducks on 
a hot day at a pond, and drinking in the drops of rain as 
they fell. They will smell a rain-squall a hundred miles 
or even farther off, and scud for it with almost incon- 
ceivable swiftness. 

How long sea-birds can exist without water is only a 
matter of conjecture, but probably their powers of en- 
during thirst are increased by habit, and possibly they 
go without water for many days, if not for several 
weeks. — Golden Days. 


A YOUNG artist of Boston, after a snow-storm in that 
city last winter, made a snow model in one of the public 
squares, that has attracted much attention during the past 
week. It represented a girl dressed in the height of fashion, 
standing with her arms folded. At her feet crouched a 
bulldog. The image was modeled in elaborate detail ; and 
though the thaw destroyed some of the fine lines, suc- 
ceeding cold weather preserved the figure. A young 
Swede, John Jepson, was the sculptor; he spent about 
three hours on the work. — New York Tribune. 


A HAWK captured and killed a carrier-pigeon in Druid 
Hill Park yesterday morning after a protracted chase. 
The lightning-like movements of the pursuer and pursued 
were a revelation to those who were not versed in the 
flights of birds. The pigeon, as long as it kept in a straight 
line, beat the hawk flying, but on becoming frightened 
and confused it began a zigzag course, and was then an 
easy prey. Capt. Cassell frightened the hawk so that he 
got the pigeon, but the pigeon was dead when it struck 
the ground. — Baltimore Sun. 


"How many stories has this building?" asked the 

" Several thousand," was the reply. 

" What ! — why, where am I ? " 

"In the fiction department of the public library." — 
Washington Star. 


Reports from various sources render the existence of 
submarine oil-wells very probable. Oil, floating on the 
surface of the ocean, has been frequently observed, and in 
many cases this has been thought to be due to the escape 
of petroleum, or other oils, from wrecks, but it has been 
found in such a great number of places and in such quan- 
tities that this source is insufficient to account for its 
presence. An officer of a British steamer reports having 
passed through a large body of what was thought to be 
whale-oil, about one hundred yards square and one foot 
deep, and there are many indications in the Gulf of Mex- 
ico which point to the existence of submarine oil-wells, or 
springs of some similar substance, and these must be the 
source of the floating oil. — The Portland Transcript. 


Bangor, Maine. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I am very much interested in 
"A Man-o'-YVar's Menagerie," because Lieutenant Kim- 
ball, who is mentioned in it, is my father's cousin. I am in- 
terested also in the " San Francisco," because it was built 
when I was a smaller little girl than 1 am now and lived 
in the city of San Francisco. I am a California girl, and 
was born nine years ago in Oakland, which is across the 
bay from San Francisco. I must close now, because I 
want to read St. Nicholas, which I got only to-day, be- 
fore I go to bed ; but my mama says 1 must go up-stairs. 
Your affectionate reader, Margaret P . 

Philadelphia, Pa. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Ever since I have read "Tom 
Paulding " I wanted to tell you about the money they 
found down in Florida about three years ago. An Amer- 
ican lady living in Europe wanted to have an old house 
that she owned torn down, in order to build a new one. 
The contractor said in his letter to her, in a joke, of 
course, that should they find any hidden treasure they 
would claim it. The lady replied, in the same manner, 
they could. While tearing out the old fireplace, a work- 
man saw something glitter that had fallen at his feet. 
He picked it up; it was a gold coin! He called the 
workmen, and after an excited search they had found 
quite a large sum of money. It was not the kind of 
money that we use, but they were Spanish doubloons, 
each one worth sixteen dollars and a half, and there were 
enough to make over two thousand dollars. The dirt 
that had been carted out of town was sifted and in it was 
found a number more of these coins. Everybody went 
wild over the discovery, and wanted to tear down all the 
old houses in town. The contractors divided the money 
between themselves, and many of the coins were sold 
for more than their value, because of their beauty and 
age. The oldest one was dated 1754; some sold for as 
high as twenty-five dollars. This is a true story of a 
real treasure, and I thought it would interest the readers 
of St. Nicholas. I saw one of these gold pieces my- 
self and had it in my hand. Your friend and reader, 

Karl Schaffi.e. 

Arensburg, Oesel. 
My dear St. Nicholas : I am a little Polish boy 
nine years old, and live in an island near Russia, called 
Oesel. Here are woods with foxes and hares. My bro- 
ther, who is eleven, and I go hunting with Papa. We 
find many mushrooms in the woods, and a great deal of 
cranberries. We have many forts in Oesel, but the larg- 
est is here near Arensburg. This fortress is eight hun- 
dred years old. A hundred years ago they found an old 
warrior in Spanish dress with golden spurs, sitting in an 
arm-chair in a little room shut with a great flat stone. 
He had a sword on his knee. Before him was a table 
with a lamp, a cup, and a piece of bread on it. When 
they touched him he fell to ashes. I have learned Eng- 
lish for a year and three months. I have written this 
letter myself, and hope you will print it in your beautiful 
magazine, which I like so much. 

Your devoted reader, Alexander M . 

Cleveland, Ohio. 
Dear St. Nicholas : 1 have taken your magazine 
for a long time, and when it came to me for the first rime 
out here it was just like an old friend. We have -not 
lived here very long, but I am used to strange places, 
as I have been almost all over the world in my father's 
ship. Once we were shipwrecked. 

My sister sends you her love. Your little friend, 

Maria F . 

Harvey B. — The poem, "Leonidas," by Anna Robe- 
son Brown, was published in St. Nicholas for October, 

Rivera, Cal. 

Dear St. Nicholas : My little brother Cary, when 
he was about three years old, was very much interested 
in his baby brother while he was cutting his teeth, and 
asked a great many questions about them. 

One day he was outdoors watching the little chickens, 
whose tail-feathers were just beginning to appear. Pretty 
soon he came running into the house. " Mama, Mama ! " 
he cried, "my little chickens are cutting their tails ! " 

I am ten years old, and have not been taking your 
magazine very long, but I like it very much. Good-by. 
With best wishes I am ever your constant reader, 

Hazel G . 

Janesville, Wis. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I like you very much. I am 
five years old. My little sister Cecelie likes you too. 
She calls you " Nicky. " I wish you would please print 
this for me. My hand is getting tired, so I will stop. I 
am your little reader, Nellie L. C . 

" Rose Villa," Dehra Dun, N. W. P., India. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I am a little girl living in In- 
dia, where Papa is a missionary ; he is revising the Hindi 

In the summer we live in the Himalaya Mountains, 
and, when it is too cold to stay there, we come down to 
Dehra Valley to live there for the winter. 

In the mountains I go to a school named "Woodstock," 
and a great many girls there take your magazine. 

When I was a very little girl, Mama and Papa took the 
St. Nicholas for my elder brothers and sisters, and we 
have ten volumes — from November, 1874, to October, 
1885, with the exception of the tenth volume. This is 
the first year we have taken it since 1885 ; Mama and 
Papa gave it to us for a Christmas present. 

Once when we were in the mountains, a leopard came 
up to our cow-house and wanted to take away our little 
calf, but when it saw the giuala, or cow-man, it walked 
off. Another time, when Papa was going to Rajpur on 
his bicycle, he passed through a troop of monkeys, who 
were evidently very much surprised to see that new mode 
of locomotion. 

When we were out camping last winter we had a ride 
on an elephant, and Papa showed us from that elevated 
position what he called "an Indian dinner-party"; the 


66 I 

guests were some vultures and jackals, who were feasting 
on the remains of a dead buffalo. 

We heard a great many jackals wailing, during our 
camp nights, and we called them " the little gentlemen 
going to a concert." 

I like India very much, but I always wish there never 
had been a Tower of Babel, for it is so difficult to learn 
Hindustani. We have been here only a little more than 
a year, so it is well for us that Papa has been here be- 
fore, and knows the language. 

From your interested reader, Edith M. K . 

I send you a little lullaby which I wrote myself. 

Hush, Baby, Hush! 

(A Lullaby.) 

Hush, baby, hush! 
The moonlight is beaming, 
The good folks are dreaming. 

Hush, baby, hush ! 

Hush, baby, hush! 
Far o'er the mountain-tops, 
There the setting sun drops. 

Hush, baby, hush ! 

Hush, baby, hush! 
The stars are beginning to peep, 
So you ought to be asleep. 

Hush, baby, hush ! 

E. M. K . 


Dear St. Nicholas : It is stated in " Tom Sawyer 
Abroad," in your February number, that the desert of 
Sahara contains 4,162,000 square miles. The" Encyclo- 
pedia Britannica " states that the desert of Sahara has an 
areaof 3,565,565 square miles. Which is correct ? Please 
answer your little ten-year-old reader. 

A. E. C . 

Authorities differ very widely in their statements of the 
size of the Sahara desert — as much as 2,000,000 square 
miles. The " Encyclopedia Britannica's " figures are given 
only as estimated, and do not include any of the desert 
east of the Nile. Of course the desert has no exact limits, 
such as the boundaries of a nation, and travelers might 
well differ as to whether a certain region was or was not 
a part of the desert. 

Probably Mark Twain took the largest estimate he 
found, including all the desert country. Here are vari- 
ous guesses at the area : " Lippincott's Gazetteer," 2,000,- 
000 square miles ; " Appleton's American Encyclopedia," 
1,500,000 to 2,000,000; "Webster's International Dic- 
tionary," 2,000,000 ; Bartholomew(English geographer), 
2,500,000 ; Meyer's " Hand Lexicon," 2,500,000 (about). 

All of which are, as you see, far below either the " En- 
cyclopedia Britannica's " or Mark Twain's figures. 

" Ritter's Geographical Statistics Lexicon " gives about 
3,500,000 square miles, and is probably as good an au- 
thority as any. 

We do not know what authority Mark Twain relied 

Manchester, N. H. 

Dear St. Nicholas: My Uncle Walter takes you 
and then sends you to us. I read " Plow Paper Money 
is Made." I asked Grandpa to let me take one of his 
bills ; he let me, and I saw a little D and a very small 
C under it. 

My auntie went to the World's Fair, and when she 
came home she brought a chameleon with her, and he 
is the pet of the whole family. Auntie named him 
" Christopher Columbus," he has traveled so far. He 
will turn dark-red, brown, and almost black, but light- 
green is his prettiest color. All of our friends bring him 
flies, which seem to be his favorite article of food. 

Auntie brought me some cards also, which have pic- 
tures of most all the people in Europe, Asia, and some in 
Africa. Yours sincerely, Bertha E. C . 

Brookline, Mass. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I have long meant to write to 
you, for we were both born in the same year, 1873, and, 
moreover, I have you complete from 1873 to 1893, in 
twenty nicely bound volumes ! 

My brother took you the first five years, then in 
1881 you were sent to me, and, with the exception of 
three years, I have taken you ever since. 

Last year, when I realized what a valuable posses- 
sion a complete set of you would be, I procured the six 
volumes we did not have, and now I am very proud 
of my complete set in its simple uniform binding. I 
hope to continue taking you as long as I live. Others, 
doubtless, have a complete set also, and I wonder if 
they are as fond of the earlier volumes as I am; they 
rival, if anything, the newer larger volumes; but the 
whole set, from beginning to end, is a mine of valuable 
and interesting information. 

My father and I enjoy solving the puzzles each month, 
and we always try to send in answers to them all ; the 
hardest ones are the best fun. Sincerely your well-wisher 
and friend, Helen C. McC . 

Austin, Texas. 

My dear St. Nicholas : I subscribed for you over 
a year ago, but at the end of the year's subscription I 
stopped on account of hard times. However, my love 
for you was such that I had all the numbers received 
from you nicely bound into a book with a leather back 
to it, on which your name appears in gilt letters ; and I 
expressed such a desire to have you again, that Papa 
made me a Christmas gift of a year's subscription last 

Up north where St. Nicholas is published I know 
that you have plenty of snow every winter. Here we 
rarely ever see the snow, whole winters passing with- 
out a snowflake falling. Last winter, on Christmas day, 
flowers were blooming in our front yard. How great 
our country is when it embraces so many different 
climates ! 

I will not trouble you with a longer letter, but will 
close by saying that of all the Christmas gifts I received 
none pleased me better than the year's subscription to 
yourself. Hugh W . 

Fresno, Cal. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I live on a vineyard, in Fresno. 
We have a place of one hundred and forty acres; it is 
mostly planted out in muscats, excepting five acres which 
are planted in sultanas. Most of the second crop this year 
was dipped in lye. The lye is put in the water, and then 
it boils. There is a fire underneath. The grapes are 
then put into evaporating pails and dipped in the boiling 



lye and water for about six or seven seconds ; the grapes 
are then laid out on trays, and if it is very hot they will 
dry in seven days, but if not they will need a fortnight. 
Our crop is very large this year, and of very fine raisins. 
I have read St. Nicholas for over a year, and like it im- 
mensely. Mother is giving it to my sister and myself 
for this year. Yours affectionately, A. A. H . 

Deer Wood, Minn. 
Dear St. Nicholas : My mother and father are go- 
ing abroad for the winter, and they are going to leave 
my brother and me with my grandma and grandpa in 
the country. I have two brothers ; one is a baby boy ; he 
is three years and six months old ; he is very funny some- 
times. My other brother is nearly nine years old ; I am 
eleven years and two months old ; we live in the coun- 
try. In the summer we have a lovely time ; we swim, and 
hunt, and fish. I have a very nice bass rod, and so has 
my brother; and I have a nice little twenty-two caliber 
rifle, and I shoot partridges and rabbits in the winter- 
time. I go out on Saturday with Papa on hunting-trips. 
Sometimes Papa takes his Winchester rifle to get deer. 
I like to skate very much. I have liked you very much 
ever since I have had you. 

I remain your loving reader, Culver A . 

Elk Point, S. Dakota. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have never written you a let- 
ter yet, so I thought I would write one. Elk Point is not 
a very big place, but I think it is real nice. We have n't 
any hills to slide down, so we have to catch on behind 
sleighs. We seldom get skating in the winter, but in 
spring when the snow melts the water runs in ditches 
and then it freezes, and makes lots of ice on which we 
try to skate, but generally break our noses and arms and 
skin our shins instead. We have a dog whose name is 
" Prince." He is the most playful dog I ever saw, and 
especially likes to run after sticks. He is sitting in a chair 
while I am writing this letter. We have taken you ever 
since I can remember, and would n't know how to get 

along without you. The daily papers never have nice 
stories in them, so I prefer to read you. I am a boy nine 
years old, and I am Your faithful reader, 

Edwin H . 

Wolf Creek, Mont. 
Dear St. Nicholas : As it is your birthday, I wish 
you many happy returns of the day. I have taken you 
for two years, and I think you are the best children's 
magazine I have ever seen. My Papa is an author, and 
has written many books. 

Did any of your readers ever try a collection of feathers ? 
I have, and have about fifty varieties. 

Louise A. B- — . 

We thank the young friends whose names follow for 
pleasant letters received from them : 

Alice C. B., Inez V. H., Bessie B., Elizabeth C. S., 
Leroy B., Delos K. D., Marion H. I., Bessie C. H., 
R. M. V. L., Carrie M. P., A. L. H. and R. S. H., 
Anna R. S. and Margaret N. A., Albert W. S., Angela 
McC, Wilton A. E., Florence E. S., Pollie K., Wm. D. 
G., Susie U. E., Elizabeth D., G. B., M. B., Regina R., 
Harold W. H., Annie A., Rex, J. C. D., Jr., Cecilia M. 
K., Ethel H. W., Winifred H., M. M. W., Daisy D., 
Ruth A. B., George W. L., Charlotte J. H., Josephine 
C, Stuart B. G, Maude R., Bertha L. B., Ethel M., 
Grace, Jim, and Russell W., May C, C. M. W., Laura, 
V. B., Chester E. R., Jr., Helen B., Henry S. G., Mabel 
C, H. N. K., Nina M. N., Rose H. and Campbell P., 
Sarah H. J., Josie R. L., Robert Van IS., Sallie, Isabel, 
and Annie C, Eldridge W. J., Edmond W. P., May E. 
V., Rowland E. L., Frank T., Esther V., Mary G., Ger- 
trude S., Mabel C, Abby E. S., R. H. M., Bessie S. T., 
Burlie T., Beatrice E. P., Jean A. R., Eileen McC, 
Virginia, Myrtle F., Florence B. F., Amelia O., Florence 
L., Claire R. McG., Rachel B.,Anna D. C, Samuel E., 
Mabel C, Edith M. C, Helen S. S., C. W., Jean N. C, 
Susie McD., Nellie R. M., Doris R., Edith MacN., E. 
B. J., and Charlie W. 

Readers of the interesting paper, in this number, en- 
titled " Some Ancient Musical Instruments," will appre- 
ciate this clever verse by Miss E. L. Sylvester : 


Quoth Meyerbeer Rossini Boccherini Verdi Jones, 
" Give me a hurdy-gurdy, sir, for purity of tones ; 
There 's not another instrument that 's half so fine 

and sturdy, 
And that you must admit, sir, when once you 've 
heard a gurdy." 



Numerical Enigma. Enigma to graphy. 

Intersecting Words. From i to 2, correct ; 3 to 4, snorted ; 5 to 
6, current. Cross-words: 1. Couches. 2. Columns. 3. Sorrows. 
4. Florist. 5. Sateens. 6. Reenact. 7. Distant. 

Zigzag. Sir Edwin Landseer. Cross-words: 1. Shed. 2. flie. 
3. foRk. 4. sirE. 5. daDo. 6. eWer. 7. Inch. 8. aNon. 9. foLd. 
10. areA. n. siNk. 12. aDds. 13. Sign. 14. sEre. 15. frEt. 
16. mooR. 

Illustrated Primal Acrostic. Bayard. 1. Bird. 2. Angle. 
3. Yacht. 4. Apple. 5. Revolver. 6. Dagger. 

Double Acrostic. Primals, Francis Marion Crawford; finals, 
Frances Hodgson Burnett. Cross-words: 1. Feoff". 2. Recur. 
3. Arena. 4. Nisan. 5. Civic. 6. Inane. 7. Signs. 8. Month, 
y. Abaco. 10. Rabid. 11. Icing. 12. Orris. 13. Negro. 14. Canon. 
15. Rhomb. 16. Adieu. 17. Waver. 18. Feign. 19. Olive. 20. Roost. 
2 1 . Daunt. Charade. Hem-i-sphere. 

Central Acrostic 
2. doWdy. 3. stAin. 4. 
8. boXer. 

Swamp Fox Cross-words 
daMan. 5. taPer. 6. loFty. 


Connected Squares. 
5. Speed. II. 1. Yacht. 

1. 1. Guess. 2. Unrip. 3. Erode. 4. Sidle. 

2. Abhor. 3. Chore. 4. Horse. 5. Trees. 
III. 1. Deisi. 2. Error. 3. Irony. 4. Songs. 5. Tryst. IV. 

1. Unapt. 2. Negro. 3. Again. 4. Prime. 5. Toned. V. 1. Tarts. 

2. Avert. 3. Repay. 4. Trail. 5. Style. 

Cube. From 1 to 2, foliage ; 1 to 3, foreign ; 2 to 4, entered ; 3 
to 4, natured ; 5 to 6, paresis ; 5 to 7, phantom ; 6 to 8, secular; 7 
to 8, manager ; r to 5, flap ; 2 to 6, eats ; 4 to 8, deer ; 3 to 7, norm. 

Rhymed Transpositions. Sutler, Ulster, rulest, luster, rustle, 

Word-squares. I. 1. Mimes. 2. Ideal. 3. Metre. 4. Eared. 
5. Sleds. II. 1. Dares. 2. Apode. 3. Rosin. 4. Edits. 5. Sense. 
III. 1. Event. 2. Valor. 3. Elite. 4. Notus. 5. Tress. 

To our Puzzlers: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and 
should be addressed to St. Nicholas " Riddle-box," care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the February Number were received, before February 15th, from Paul Rowley — Helen C. 
McCleary — Louise Ingham Adams — Josephine Sherwood — Uncle Mung — Chester B. Sumner — Aunt Kate, Isabel, Mama, and Jamie — 
Blanche and Fred — John Fletcher and Jessie Chapman — L. O. E. — E. Kellogg Trowbridge — "The Wise Five" — Jo and L 

Answers to Puzzles in the February Number were received, before February 15th, from L. U. E., 1 — Mai H. Scudder, 1 — 
Lulu Campbell, 2 — Paul Reese, 8 — Ethel Ruth Johnson, 1 — Royal D. Thomas, 1 — Alexander Gunn, 1 — Florence E. Sheldon, t — Har- 
old A. Fisher, 2— M. McG., 8 — Edward L.Davis, 1— Helen G. Elliott. 3 — G. B. Dyer, 8 — L. H. K., 3 — W. Kidds. 2 — Elaine S-, 1 — 
"The Maid of Bath," 6 — Carrie Chester, 1 — Stubbs Isabel, 1 — Robert Van Buskirk, 1 — Mama and Helen, 5 — Ida Carleton Thallon, 8 — 
Edna Myers, 1 — Thomas Avery, 7 — Effie K. Talboys, 6 — Ira F. Wildey, 2 — L. B. F., 1 — L. Fletcher Craig, 1 — Mama and 
Sadie, 5 — Alice Mildred Blanke and Co., 8 — "Gamma Kai Gamma," 3 — M. E. H., 2 — "Maine and Minnesota," 8 — A. T. S., 8 — 
Convent Chums, 1 — No Name, 3 — Estelle and Clarendon, 2 — Geo. S. Seymour, 3 — "The CleverTwo," 6 — Evelyn E. Smith, 8 — A. 
R. T. and J. T., 5 — " Will O. Tree," 5 — Robert and Walter Haight, 8 — Bessie and Eva, 7 — R. S. Bloomingdale, 8 — E. N. Moore, 5 — 
May Vatter, 1 — Chas. A. Barnard, 3 — Herbert Wright, 1 — Ethel and Cousin Burt, 8 — Edward W. Sturdevant, Jr., and M. S. S., 6 — 
Hubert L. Bingay, 6 — " The Lady from Philadelphia," 8 — " Helen and Florida," 6 — Charlotte Annie Peabody, 8 — Helen and Bessie, 2. 


(beginning at the upper, left-hand letter) will spell a 
long-winged bird. 


Some one threw my first and second at me, and it hit 
my third. It did not hurt me, for it was only a branch 
of my whole, PEARLE C. 


My first is in coffee, but not in tea; 

My second, in river, but not in sea; 

My third is in banter, but not in joke; 

My fourth is in mantle, but not in cloak; 

My fifth is in tocsin, but not in alarm ; 

My sixth is in village, but not in farm ; 

My seventh, in cash, but not in coin; 

My eighth is in add, but not in join ; 

My ninth is in carol, but not in song; 

My tenth is in chain, but not in thong; 

My eleventh, in cork, but not in wood ; 

My twelfth is in cape, but not in hood. 

My whole was a lord of the Spanish main, 
Who sailed from England, a fortune to gain. 


My primals name those especially remembered by 
soldiers in the latter part of May ; my finals show for 
what purpose certain decorations are prepared. 

Cross-words: i. A fissure. 2. Very corpulent. 3. A 
title of respect given to a lady. 4. A character in one of 
Shakspere's plays. 5. An autumn flower. 6. A famous 
city of India. 7. Additional. 8. Part of a flower. 


Each of the objects in the above picture may be de- 
scribed by a word of five letters. When rightly guessed, 
and the words placed one below another, the diagonal 

I. In pomegranate. 2. A small quadruped. 3. Ex- 
tremely violent. 4. Nourishment. 5. Covered with 
tiles. 6. Poor or ragged clothing. 7. In pomegranate. 






I AM composed of sixty-six letters, and 
form two lines of a poem by Thomas Bu- 
chanan Read. 

My 24-35-63 is an inlet of the sea. My 
51-14-9-45 is to draw near. My 58-4-29-S is one of the 
United States. My 54-42-19-47 is combustible turf. My 
17-32-27-5615 a cement. My 22-64-2-40 is high temper- 
ature. My 33-11-38-62 is the fermented juice of grapes. 
My 60-25-6-21-13 is peevish. My 3-34-65-49-28 is 
barm. My 7-52-46-26-57 is to swindle. My 41-23-53- 
36-4S-16 is the abode of bliss. My 44-5-30-59-55-10 
is a thin, indented cake. My 61-15-12-39-66-20 is hav- 
ing a keen appetite. My 43-31-1S-1-37-50 is the 
highest point. L. \v. 


Ton eht wrod, tub eth solu fo het ginth ! 
Ton het mane, tub het ripsit fo grispn ! 
Dan os, ta grimnon realy, 
Gothhur shoregwed shref dan parley, 

Dekebced twih whathorne cransheb 

Dan plape lossmobs yag, 

Reh geldon hira doarun ehr, 
Sa ft mose dog hda wronced reh, 

Sarcos het dwey nodadlow 

Scome dangcin ni eht yam. 


When the following words have been rightly guessed, 
and placed one below another, the initial letters will spell 
the name of a famous hero. 

Cross-words (of equal length): 1. Endangers. 2. A 
vegetable. 3. To hold firmly. 4. To make into a law. 
5. A knave. 6. An ancient Persian head-dress. 7. Cheer- 
less. 8. A Russian coin. 9. To join. 10. A venomous 
serpent. II. One hostile to another. 



4 to 12, a body of water; 5 to 13, a South 
American ruminant ; 6 to 14, common ; 7 to 
15, a rope with a running noose, used for 
catching cattle; 8 to 16, a city in New York 
State ; 9 to 17, a Hebrew legislator and pro- 
phet; 10 to 18, a Greek letter; 11 to 19, be- 
longing to a city ; 12 to 20, a wanderer; 13 to 21, a weapon ; 
14 to 22, a river in Washington State ; 15 to 23, pertain- 
ing to the eye ; 16 to 24, the name the Arabs give to the 
Supreme Being. G. B. D. 


Across: i. A tattered piece of cloth. 2. Small game 
animals. 3. To be of one mind. 4. Something used in 
making bread. 5. A coloring substance. 

Downward : 1. A kind of fodder. 2. Became furi- 
ous with anger. 3. To adorn with dress. 4. Certain 
fowls. 5. To put in place. H. w. E. 



■ 9 • 

• '7 



. 18 



• 19 

4 ■ 

12 . 


5 ■ 


. 21 

6 . 

■ 14 • 

. 22 

7 • 

• 15 ■ 

• 23 

8 . 

. 16 . 

• 24 

From I to 8, and from 17 to 24, are geographical 
names that of late have been very often in the newspa- 
pers ; from 9 to 16 is the name of a famous volcano, often 
mentioned in connection with these geographical names. 

Cross-words : From I to 9, a king of Tyre ; 2 to 10, 
a musical work ; 3 to 1 1, the French word for " nephew " ; 

I. Upper Left-hand Diamond. 1. In alter. 2. Ter- 
mination. 3. A good spirit. 4. Moisture. 5. In alter. 

II. Upper Right-hand Diamond : 1. In alter. 2. A 
game. 3. Afterward. 4. A jewel. 5. In alter. 

III. Central Diamond : 1. In alter. 2. A covering 
for the head. 3. An organ of the body. 4. To procure. 
5. In alter. 

IV. Lower Left-hand Diamond : 1. In alter. 2. A 
humorist. 3. A stratum. 4. To gain. 5. In alter. 

V. Lower Right-hand Diamond : 1. In alter. 2. To 
brown. 3. One who rates. 4. Unhackneyed. 5. In alter. 



I. I. A light kind of musket. 2. A Burman measure 
of twelve miles. 3. A portable chair. 4. An effigy. 
5. Narrow passageways. " SAMUEL SYDNEY." 


'Jew**,- ito 



Vol. XXI. 

JUNE, 1894. 

Copyright, 1894, by The Century Co. All rights reserved. 

No. 8 


By Anna Robeson Brown. 

LAF, the son of Eric, oh, a wild, merry lad was he ! 

And where the crags of Norway rose black o'er a turbulent sea 

The roof of the homestead glistened; he played with his brothers four, 

Cynric, the golden-haired Svega, Eric, and little Thor. 

They chased the deer on the mountains, and oft in their shallow skiff 

They rowed where the sea-coming surges beat white at the foot of the cliff, 

Or swam at their ease where the water was still, in the arm of the bay ; 

And Cynric and Svega swam strongly, but Olaf swam longer than they. 

Rocked by the great green billows, Lord Eric's new battle-ship swung ; 

For many long months on her timbers the strokes of his henchmen had rung. 

Her painted sails were crimson, and a Golden Dragon shone 

At her prow, that her name and owner to all men might be known. 

New, unchristened in battle, shining with paint, the tide 

Lifted her curved prow gently, while Eric's heart swelled with pride ; 

And oft in the feast at twilight, lifting his horn, he rose 

Crying, " Health to the Golden Dragon, and soon may she crush her foes ! " 

Once in the drowsy noontide, rambling as children will, 

Olaf and all his brothers, at play and thinking no ill, 

Wandered away to the crag's foot, and, climbing the rocks with glee, 

Gained the top, and the pine-wood, shouting right merrily. 

Suddenly "Stop!" cried Olaf; "look — on the further shore!" 

And he pulled them down in the bushes, Eric and little Thor. 

Till, as they crouched all breathless, they saw, where the sea ran white, 

The beaked prow of a war-ship, and something that glistened bright : 

Helmets and swords of warriors ! And there, with not one to save, — 

There rode the Golden Dragon, courtseying over the wave ! 

60 7 


" Oh, to give Father warning ! " cried Svega, watching the shore, 

" Run for the homestead ! " said Cynric, and " Robbers ! " yelled little Thor. 

But Olaf measured the distance, and scowled as he shook his head. 
" 'T is a good three miles through the woodland and round by the shore," he said : 
" But there," he pointed beneath them where the amethyst waters lay, 
" There is the shortest distance; I '11 swim it across the bay!" 

Oh, Vikings' children are warriors, and their hearts are hearts of steel ; 
Yet Thor cried aloud with horror, and ground the dust with his heel, 
As nearer the Golden Dragon the enemy's ship crept slow, 
And all was peace at the homestead ; unseen was the dreaded foe. 

Into the dark green water, his face set firm, from the shore 

Sprang Olaf, the son of Eric ; and aghast stood his brothers four. 

He swam like a very sea-snake, and his soul it knew no fear 

While the shore behind him grew distant, and the homestead in front grew near. 

Peacefully sat Lord Eric and laughed o'er his noontide meat, 

When sudden, without, was clamor, and the sound of hurrying feet ; 

And at the great door young Olaf, all drenched and cold from the sea, 

Cried, "Father, the Golden Dragon! — they seize it! The enemy!" 

Out poured Lord Eric's henchmen, and anger blazed in their eyes, 

And the sun glints on their broadswords as each his good blade tries. 

So instead of an easy capture, a raid and flight in a breath, 

The foe saw a hundred warriors, their faces as stern as death. 

They dared not meet them — the cravens!— and ere that a bolt had sped 

Or a sword had been raised at the war-cry, they turned their prow and fled. 

There was feasting that night at the homestead, and Olaf the boy was there, 
With a mantle of blue on his shoulders and a twist of gold in his hair. 
The mailed warriors pledged him, they gave him rich gifts and more : 
And Eric and Svega were feasted, and Cynric and little Thor. 
Then they rose, those fierce old Vikings, with a shout till the rafters rung, 
"All honor to Thor and to Odin, and honor to Olaf the Young!" 



Chapter III. 


The leave enjoyed by Decatur and Somers 
was brief, and before the summer of 1801 was 
over they were forced to part. For the first 
time in their young lives, their paths were to 
diverge for a short while, and to be reunited in 
the end. But their separation was for a reason 
honorable to both. Decatur was appointed first 
lieutenant in the frigate " Essex" — like most of 
those early ships of the American navy, des- 
tined to a splendid career. She was com- 
manded by Captain Bainbridge, whose fate 
was afterward strangely linked with that of his 
young first lieutenant. The Essex was one of a 
squadron of three noble frigates ordered to the 
Mediterranean under the command of Com- 

modore Richard Dale. And this Richard Dale 
had been the first lieutenant of Paul Jones in 
the immortal fight between the " Bon Homme 
Richard " and the " Serapis." The association 
with such a man as Commodore Dale was in- 
spiration to an enthusiast like Decatur ; and he 
found also, to his joy, that Danny Dixon was 
one of the quartermasters on the Essex. 

Somers's appointment was to the " Boston," a 
sloop-of-war carrying twenty-eight guns, com- 
manded by Captain McNeill, one of the oddi- 
ties of the American navy. He was an able sea- 
man and a good officer, but he always insisted 
upon conducting his cruise according to his 
own ideas. This Somers found out the instant 
that he stepped upon the Boston's deck at New 
York. The Essex was at New York also ; and 
the two friends had traveled from Philadelphia 





together. Out in the stream lay the frigate 
" President," flying a commodore's pennant. 

" And although, being ' grand first luffs,' we 
can't be shipmates, yet we '11 both be in the 
same squadron, Dick ! " cried Decatur. 

" True," answered Somers, " and a Mediter- 
ranean cruise ! Think of the oldsters that 
would like to go to Europe, instead of us 
youngsters!" So their anticipations were cheer- 
ful enough, each thinking their separation but 
temporary, and that, for three years certainly, 
they would serve in the same squadron. 

The two friends reached New York late at 
night, and early next morning each reported 
on board his ship. The Essex was a small but 
handsome frigate, mounting thirty-two guns, 
and was lying close by the Boston at the dock. 
Decatur's brief interview with Captain Bain- 
bridge was pleasant, although formal. Captain 
Bainbridge introduced him to the ward-room; 
the steward showed him his room, and Decatur 
realized that, at one bound, he had cleared the 
gulf between the first place in the steerage and 
the ranking officer in the ward-room. All this 
took but an hour or two of time, and presently 
Decatur found himself standing on the dock, 
and waiting for Somers, who had left the Bos- 
ton about the same time. As Somers ap- 
proached, his usually somber face was smiling. 

" What is it ? " hallooed Decatur. 

Somers took Decatur's arm before answering, 
and, as they strolled along the busy streets near 
the harbor, he told his story. 

" Well, I went on board, and was introduced 
into the captain's cabin. There sat Captain Mc- 
Neill, — a red-headed old fellow with a squint; 
but you could n't help knowing that he is a man 
of force. What he says is, like himself, very 

" ' Now, Mr. Somers,' said he, drawling, ' I 
dare say you look forward to a gay time at the 
Mediterranean ports, with all that squadron that 
Dale has got to show off with ? ' 

" I was a good deal taken aback, but I said, 
Yes, I did. 

" ' Very well, sir, make up your mind that you 
won't have a gay time with that squadron ! ' 

" I was a good deal more taken aback, and, 
being anxious to agree with the captain, I said it 
did n't make any difference — I looked for more 

work than play on a cruise. This did n't seem 
to please Captain McNeill, either; so he banged 
his fist down on the table, and said : ' No, you 
don't, sir ; no, you don't ! You are no doubt 
longing this minute to be on that ship,' — point- 
ing out of the stern port at the President, — ' and 
to have that broad pennant waving over you. 
But take a good look at it, Mr. Somers — take a 
good look at it, Mr. Somers ; for you may not see 
it again.' 

" You may fancy how astonished I was ; but, 
when I went down into the ward-room, and 
talked with the officers, I began to understand 
the old fellow. It seems he hates to be under 
orders. He has always managed to have an 
independent command ; but this time the navy 
officials were too smart for him, and he was 
ordered to join Commodore Dale's squadron. 
But he contrived to get orders so that he could 
join the squadron in the Mediterranean, instead 
of at Hampton Roads, where the other ships 
are to rendezvous ; and the fellows in the ward- 
room say they would n't be surprised if they 
never should see the flag-ship from the time 
they leave home until they get back." 

" That will be bad for you and me, Dick," 
said Decatur, simply. 

"Very bad," answered Somers, feelingly. 

Within a week the Boston was to sail, and one 
night, about nine o'clock, wind and tide serv- 
ing, the Boston slipped down the harbor to the 
outer bay, whence at daylight she was to set sail 
on her long cruise. Decatur bade Somers good- 
by on the dock, and stood watching sorrowfully 
while the ship swung round and headed for the 
open bay, starting off like a ghostly ship in the 

At that moment Decatur felt perhaps the 
strongest and strangest sense of loss he had ever 
felt in his life. He had many friends, — James, 
his brother, who had entered the navy, was near 
his own age, — but Somers was his other self. 

This strange loneliness hung upon Decatur; 
and, although his new duties and his new 
friends were many, there were certain chambers 
of his heart that remained closed to the whole 
world — except to Somers. He found on the 
Essex a modest young midshipman, Thomas 
Macdonough, who reminded him so much of 
Somers that Decatur became much attached to 

i8 94 .] 



him. Macdonough, like Somers and Decatur, 
lived to make glorious history for his country. 
Within a few days the Essex sailed, in com- 
pany with the President (flag-ship), the " Phila- 
delphia," and the schooner " Enterprise." This 

" Thunderer," flying British colors, while half 
a dozen smaller war-ships looked like shallops 
alongside of this warlike monster, which car- 
ried a hundred and twenty guns, and a crew 
of nearly a thousand men. 


cruise was the beginning of that warfare against 
the pirates of Tripoli which was to win the 
commendation of the whole world. They 
made a quick passage — for a squadron — to the 
Mediterranean; and on a lovely July night the 
squadron, with the flag-ship leading, passed Eu- 
ropa Point, and stood toward the lion-like form 
of the Rock of Gibraltar, that rose in stupen- 
dous majesty before them. A glorious moon 
bathed all the scene with light — the beautiful 
harbor, with a great line-of-battle ship, the 

At the extremity of the harbor lay a hand- 
some frigate, and a brig, each flying the crescent 
of Tripoli. The larger ship flew also the pen- 
nant of an admiral. There being good anchor- 
age between the Tripolitan and the British line- 
of-battle ship, Commodore Dale stood in, and 
the American squadron anchored between the 

Early next morning, Decatur went ashore in 
the first cutter, by Captain Bainbridge's orders, 
to find out the state of affairs with Tripoli. He 





to hear some news of Somers, who 
a week in advance. He heard start- 
news enough about the Barbary pirates. 


reached the United States before the squadron 
left, the commodore was not justified in begin- 
ning hostilities until he had received formal no- 
tice of the dec- 
laration of war 
from the home 
government at 

the Tripolitans 
and Americans 
watched one an- 
other grimly, 
in the harbor. 
As for Somers, 
Decatur was 
bitterly disap- 
pointed not to 
find him. The 
Boston had sail- 
ed only the day 

Dale determin- 
ed to await or- 
ders at Gibral- 
tar, before mak- 
ing a regular at- 
tack on Tripoli, 
but he caused it 
to be boldly an- 
nounced from 
the American 
officers, mean- 
while, that, if 
the Tripolitans 
wanted to fight, 
all they had to 
do was to lift 
their anchors, 
go outside and 
back their top- 
sails, and he 
would be ready 
for them. 
Several weeks 


The flagstaff of the American legation at Tripoli ing to the slowness of communication from home, 
had been cut down, and war was practically no official declaration of war had reached them, 
declared. But, as the information had not The squadron cruised about the Mediterranean, 




giving convoy, and ever ready to begin active 
hostilities as soon as called upon. The Tripoli- 
tan pirates were still at work, whenever they dared ; 
but the watchful energy of the American squadron 
kept them from doing much harm. Meanwhile, 
the Boston was cruising about the same ground ; 
but whenever the squadron put into port, either 
the Boston had just left, or she arrived just as 
the squadron disappeared. This was very ex- 
asperating to Commodore Dale ; but, as Cap- 
tain McNeill was ostensibly in hot pursuit of 
the squadron, and always had some plausible 
excuse for not falling in with it, the commodore 
could do nothing but leave peremptory orders 
behind him, which invariably failed to reach 
Captain McNeill in time. 

It was a cruel disappointment to both Deca- 
tur and Somers, who had expected to be almost 
as much together during this cruise of the squad- 
ron as if they had been on the same ship. 

After they had been thus dodging each other 
for months, Decatur found at Messina, where 
the Essex touched, the following letter from 
Somers : 

My dear Decatur : Here we are, going along with 
a fair wind, while I am perfectly sure that the sail re- 
ported off the starboard quarter is one of the squadron; 
perhaps the Essex! As you know, Captain McNeill is — 
apparently — the most anxious man imaginable to report 
to his commanding officer ; but if Commodore Dale 
wins in this chase, he will be a seaman equal to Paul 
Jones himself. For Captain McNeill is one of the very 
ablest seamen in the world ; and, much as his eccentrici- 
ties annoy us, his management of the ship is so superb 
that we can't but admire the old fellow. But I tell you, 
privately, that he has no notion of taking orders from 
anybody ; and the commodore will never lay eyes on 
him during the whole cruise. Nevertheless, he is doing 
good service, giving convoy and patrolling the African 
coast, so that the Barbary corsairs are beginning to be 
afraid to show their noses when the Boston is about. 

Here a break occurred, and the letter was 
continued on the next page : 

In regard to my shipmates, I find them pleasant fel- 
lows ; but still I feel, as I always shall feel, the loss of 
your companionship, my dear Decatur. Perhaps, had I 
a father or a mother, I should feel differently; but your 
parents are the persons who have treated me with the 
most paternal and maternal affection. As for you, we 
have lived so long in intimacy that I can scarcely expect 
to form another such friendship; indeed, it would be im- 
possible. I am glad that you are becoming fond of 
young Macdonough. Several of the midshipmen on 

this ship know him, and speak of him as a young officer 
of wonderful nerve and coolness. I only hope that 
Macdonough, young as he is, may exercise some of that 
restraint over you which you have always charged me 
with, Decatur. You are much too rash, and I wish I 
could convince you that there are occasions in every 
officer's life when prudence is the very first and greatest 
virtue. Of course, you will laugh at this, and remind 
me of many similar warnings I have given you ; but I 
cannot help advising you — you know I have been 
doing that ever since we were lads together at Dame 
Gordon's school. 

Here came another break, and a new date. 

I was about to close my letter, when one of our offi- 
cers got a letter from a friend on the Enterprise; and,, 
as it shows how the Barbary corsairs fight, I will tell 
you a part of it. While running from Malta, on the first 
of August, the Enterprise ran across a polacea-rigged- 
ship, such as the Barbary corsairs usually have, with an- 
American brig in tow, which had evidently been cap- 
tured and her people sent adrift. Sterrett, who com- 
manded the Enterprise, as soon as he found the position 
of affairs, cleared for action, ran out his guns, and opened 
a brisk fire on the Tripolitan. He got into a raking 
position, and his broadside had a terrific effect upon the 
pirate. But mark the next : three times the Tripol- 
itan colors were hauled down, and then hoisted again, 
as soon as the fire of the Enterprise ceased. After the 
third time, Sterrett played his broadside on the pirate 
with the determination to sink him for such treachery ; 
but the Tripolitan rah, or captain, appeared in the waist 
of his ship, bending his body in token of submission, 
and actually threw his ensign overboard. Sterrett could 
not take the ship as prize, because no formal declaration 
of war had reached him from the United States. But 
he sent Midshipman Porter — you remember David 
Porter, who, with Rodgers, carried the French frigate 
" LTnsurgente " into port, after Commodore Truxtun had 
captured her? — aboard of the pirate, to dismantle her. 
He had all her guns thrown overboard, stripped her of 
everything except one old sail and a single spar, and let 
her go with a message to the Bashaw of Tripoli, that 
such was the way the Americans treated pirates. I un- 
derstand that, when the rais got to Tripoli, with his one 
old sail, he was ridden through a town on a donkey, by 
order of the Bashaw, and received the bastinado ; and 
that, since then, the Tripolitans are having great trouble 
in finding crews to man their corsair ships, because of 
the dread of the "Americanos." 

Now, I must tell you a piece of news, almost too good 
to be true. I hear the government is building four 
beautiful small schooners carrying sixteen guns, for use 
in this Tripolitan war, which is to be pushed very ac- 
tively, and that you, my dear Decatur, will command 
one of these vessels, and I, another ! I can write noth- 
ing more exhilarating after this, so, I am, as always, 
Your faithful friend, 

Richard Somers. 

Vol. XXI.— 85. 




Chapter IV. 


Never had the blue Mediterranean, and the 
quaint old town of Syracuse and its fair harbor, 
looked more beautiful than on a certain sunny 
September afternoon in 1S03. The green shores 
of Sicily stretched as far as the eye could reach; 
the white- walled town, with its picturesque and 
half-ruined castle, lay in the foreground; while 
looming up in the farthest horizon, was the 
shadowy cone of Mount Etna, with its crown of 
fire and smoke. The harbor contained a few 
fishing-vessels, most of them motionless upon 
the water, with their white lateen sails furled. 

But, in the midst of all this placid beauty, lay 
a war-ship, — the majestic " Constitution," the 
darling frigate of her country, looking as if she 
commanded everything in sight. Never was 
there a more warlike-looking ship than " Old 
Ironsides." Her towering hull, which was higher 
than the masts of most of the vessels in the 
sunlit harbor, was, as with all American naval 
ships, painted black. In striking contrast were 
her polished decks, her shining masts and spars, 
and her snowy canvas. Her ports were open 
to admit the air ; and through them could be 
seen a double row of wicked-looking muzzles. 
The other vessels rocked with the tide and wind, 
but the great frigate seemed to stand perfectly 
still, as if defying both wind and tide. Her 
colors, too, caught some wandering puff of air, 
and fluttered out proudly, while the other flags 
in sight drooped languidly. 

At anchor near her were two light but beau- 
tiful schooner-rigged vessels, which also flew 
American colors. They were precisely alike in 
their lines, their rig, and the small but service- 
able batteries they carried. On the stern of one 
was gilded Nautilus, while on the other was 
Siren. These were, indeed, the gallant little 
vessels that Somers had written to Decatur 
about, and his dream was realized. He com- 
manded the "Nautilus"; Stewart commanded 
the "Siren"; while Decatur commanded the 
"Argus," a sister vessel, which was hourly ex- 

The quiet of the golden afternoon was broken 
when around the headland came sailing another 
small but beautiful cruiser, schooner-rigged, and 

wearing American colors. As soon as she had 
weathered the point of land, and had got fully 
abreast of the Constitution, her guns roared 
out a salute to the commodore's pennant flying 
on the Constitution, which the frigate acknow- 
ledged. The schooner had a handsome figure- 
head, and on her stern was painted in gold 
letters, Argus. She came to anchor in first- 
class man-of-war style, close under the Consti- 
tution's quarter ; and, a few minutes later, her 
gig was lowered, and her young commander, 
Stephen Decatur, stepped into the boat, and 
was pulled toward the Constitution. At that 
time, neither he nor Somers was turned of 
twenty-four, although both were commanding 

As the gig shot past the Nautilus, Decatur 
stood up and waved his cap at the officers; but 
he observed that Somers was not among them, 
and Decatur therefore thought that Somers was 
at that moment on board the flag-ship. The two 
had parted only six weeks before, when, Som- 
ers's vessel being ready in advance of Decatur's, 
he had sailed to join Commodore Preble's 
squadron in the Mediterranean. The prospect 
of seeing Somers again, raised Decatur's natur- 
ally gay and jovial spirits to the highest pitch, 
and he tried to distinguish among the officers 
scattered about the Constitution's decks, the 
handsome, lithe figure of his friend. While 
watching the frigate, as he advanced toward 
it, he saw another boat come alongside; an offi- 
cer stepped out and ran lightly up the ladder, 
while the boat pulled back to the shore. De- 
catur was struck by the fact that this officer, 
who was obviously a young man, wore two 
epaulets. In those days, only flag-officers were 
allowed to wear two, all others wearing but 
one. Commodore Preble was, in fact, the only 
man in the whole American fleet then in Euro- 
pean waters who was allowed to wear two 
epaulets. Decatur was much puzzled by the 
officer's uniform ; the only explanation that oc- 
curred to him was that the gallant Preble had 
been superseded, a thing which would have 
filled him with regret. Although the commo- 
dore was a stranger to him, Decatur had con- 
ceived the highest respect for his abilities, and 
had heard much of his vigor and enterprise, to 
say nothing of his untamable temper, which at 




first the officers chafed under, but had soon come 
to regard as " Old Pepper's " way — for so the 
midshipmen had dubbed Commodore Preble. 

The deck was full of officers, standing about, 
enjoying the lovely afternoon ; and they all 
watched with interest the Argus's boat, knowing 
it contained Decatur. While it was still a hun- 
dred yards off, Decatur recognized the figure 
of Somers running down the ladder; and, in 
a few minutes, Decatur literally jumped into 
Somers's arms. Their affectionate way of meet- 
ing amused their shipmates very much, and 
even Danny Dixon, who was Decatur's cox- 
swain, grinned slyly at the men in the boat, 
and whispered as the two young captains went 
up the ladder together, their arms entwined like 
school-boys : 

"They 're lovyers — them two be. They 
keeps locks o' each other's hair, and picters 
in their bosoms ! " 

The officers greeted Decatur warmly, among 
them Macdonough, now a tall young fellow of 
eighteen ; but Decatur noticed that all of them 
seemed convulsed with laughter. Lieutenant 
Trippe, who was officer of the deck, laughed to 
himself as he walked up and down; and even 
the stolid marine, who stood guard at the hatch- 
way, wore a broad smile. Two or three mid- 
shipmen, loitering about, grinned appreciatively 
at each other. 

" Why, what 's the meaning of this hilarity, 
Somers ? " cried Decatur, observing a smile 
even on Somers's usually grave countenance. 

" Matter enough," responded Somers. "The 
commodore needed a surgeon's mate for this 
ship, so he succeeded in getting a little Sicilian 
doctor for the place. He was entered on the 
ship's books regularly under an acting appoint- 
ment, and ordered to prepare his uniforms and 
outfit, and report on board this afternoon. 
Well, just now he came aboard, in full regalia, 
with cocked hat and side arms; but, instead of 
having one epaulet, he has two ; and the com- 
modore is n't the man to permit any equality 
between himself and a surgeon's mate. The 
little fellow has gone below, and — ha! ha! — 
we are waiting for the explosion." 

There was one of the midshipmen, though, 
the youngest and smallest of them all, a bright- 
faced lad of fourteen, who laughed as much 

as the rest, but who looked, undoubtedly, a 
little frightened. 

" Mr. Israel, there," continued Somers, still 
laughing, " was the officer to whom the doctor 
applied for instructions about his uniforms, and 
we are afraid that the commodore may call 
upon Mr. Israel for an explanation." 

" I — I — don't know what I shall do," fal- 
tered the little midshipman, "if Old Pepper — 
I mean the commodore, should ask me. I 'm 
sure I 'd never have the nerve to own up ; and 
I certainly can't deny that I did tell the doc- 
tor he 'd look well in a cocked hat and two 

" Never mind, Pickle," said Macdonough, 
clapping the boy on the shoulder; "you 're 
always in mischief anyhow, so a little more or 
less makes no difference. Captain Decatur, we 
in the steerage do our best to reform Mr. Is- 
rael, but he has a positive genius for getting 
into scrapes." 

" Queer thing that for a midshipman," an- 
swered Decatur, with a wink at Captain Somers 
as a reminder of their pranks when they were 
reefers together on " Old Wagoner." 

Suddenly a wild yell was heard from be- 
low. The next moment the unlucky Sicilian 
dashed out of the cabin, hotly pursued by 
Commodore Preble himself. The commodore 
was six feet high, and usually of a grave and 
saturnine countenance. But there was nothing 
grave or saturnine about him now. He had 
been in the act of shaving when the surgeon's 
mate with the two epaulets appeared, and he 
had not taken time to wipe the lather off his 
face, or to take off his dressing-gown, nor was 
he conscious that he was flourishing a razor in 
his hand. The Sicilian, seeing the razor, and ap- 
palled by the reception he had met, had taken 
to his heels, and the commodore, bent upon hav- 
ing an explanation, had followed, bawling: 

" What do you mean, you lubberly apothe- 
cary, by appearing before me in that rig ? Two 
epaulets and a cocked hat for a surgeon's mate ! 
I got you, sir, to pound drugs in a mortar, not 
to insult your superiors by getting yourself up 
like a commodore ! I '11 have you court-mar- 
tialed, sir ! No, sir — I '11 withdraw your appoint- 
ment, and take the responsibility of giving you 
the cat for your insolence." 




The poor Sicilian darted across the deck, 
and, still finding the enraged commodore at 
his heels, suddenly sprang over the rail and 
struck out swimming for the shore. 

Commodore Preble walked back to where 
the officers stood who had watched the scene, 
ready to die with laughter, and shouted : 

" Mr. Israel, I believe you were the midship- 
man, sir, to whom I directed that miserable 
little pill-maker to go for information respect- 
ing his uniforms ? " 

" Yes, sir,'' answered Pickle, in a weak voice, 
the smile leaving his countenance. The others 
had assumed as serious an expression as they 
were able, but kept it with difficulty. Not so 
poor Pickle, who knew what it was to fall into 
the commodore's hands for punishment. 

" And did you, sir, have the amazing effron- 
tery, the brazen assurance, to advise that little 
popinjay to put on two epaulets and a cocked 
hat ? " roared the commodore. 

"I — I — did n't advise him, sir," replied 
Pickle, looking around despairingly ; " but he 
asked me — if I thought — two epaulets would 
look well on him — and I said — y-yes — and — " 

" Go on, sir," thundered the commodore. 

" And then I — I — told him, if he had two 
epaulets he ought to have a cocked hat." 

" Mr. Israel," said the commodore, in a deep 
voice, after an awful pause, " you will go below, 
and remain there until I send for you." 

Poor Pickle, with a rueful countenance, 
turned and went below. 

Decatur, advancing with Somers, said : 

" Commodore Preble, I have the honor of 
presenting myself before you ; and yonder is 
my ship, the Argus." 

It was now the commodore's turn to be con- 
fused. With his strict notions of naval etiquette, 
the idea that he should appear on the quarter- 
deck half shaved and in his dressing-gown, 
was thoroughly upsetting. He mumbled some 
apology for his appearance, in which " that 
rascally apothecary" and " that little pickle of a 
midshipman" figured; then, asking Captain 
Decatur's presence in the cabin a few minutes 
later, disappeared. 

As soon as the commodore was out of hear- 
ing the officers gathered about Decatur. 

" That 's the same old Preble," said he, 

" that I have heard of ever since I entered 
the navy." 

"Yes," answered Somers; "at first we hated 
him ; now there is not an officer in the squad- 
ron who does not like and respect him. He is 
a stern disciplinarian, and he has a temper like 
fire and tow. But he is every inch a sailor, 
and all of us will one day be proud to say 
' I served under Preble at Tripoli ! ' " 

The conversation then turned upon the dis- 
tressing news of the loss of the frigate Philadel- 
phia, one of the handsomest in the world, and 
the capture of all her company by the Tripoli- 
tans. While commanded by Bainbridge, De- 
catur's old captain in the Essex, the Philadel- 
phia had run upon a rock in the entrance to 
the harbor of Tripoli, and, literally mobbed by 
a Tripolitan flotilla, she was compelled to sur- 
render. All her guns had been thrown over- 
board, and every effort made to scuttle her 
when the Americans saw that capture was in- 
evitable ; but it was with grief and shame that 
the officers of the Constitution told Decatur 
that the ship had been raised, her guns fished 
up, her masts and spars refitted, and she lay 
under the guns of the Bashaw's castle in the 
harbor, flying the piratical colors of Tripoli at 
her peak. If anything could add to the misery 
of the four hundred officers and men belonging 
to her, it was the sight of her, so degraded, 
which they could not but witness from the win- 
dows of their dungeons in the Bashaw's castle. 
Her recapture had been eagerly talked over 
and thought over ever since her loss; and it 
was a necessary step in the conquest of the 
piratical power of the Barbary States, for she 
would be a formidable enemy to any ship, even 
the mighty Constitution herself. 

When Decatur entered the commodore's 
cabin, Commodore Preble was a model of dig- 
nity and courtesy. He at once began talking 
with Decatur about the war with Tripoli. 

" I have a plan, sir," said Decatur, after a 
while, with a slight smile, "just formed since I 
have been on this ship, but, nevertheless, enough 
developed for me to ask your permission. It is 
to cut out the Philadelphia as she now lies on 
the harbor rocks at Tripoli. I hear that, when 
Captain Bainbridge was compelled to haul down 
his flag, he ordered the ship scuttled. Instead 

i8 9 4-] 



of that, though, only a few holes were bored in 
her bottom, and there was no difficulty in patch- 
ing them and raising her." 

Commodore Preble answered : 

" Certainly, the ship must be destroyed for 
the honor of the flag ; and it will also be a 
measure of prudence in the coming campaign 
against the fleet and town of Tripoli. But as to 
cutting her out — that is an impossible thing." 

" I think not, sir," answered Decatur, with 
equal firmness. 

" You think not, Captain Decatur, because 
you are not yet twenty-five years old. I think 
to the contrary because I am more than forty. 
The flag will be vindicated if the Philadelphia 
is destroyed, and never permitted to sail under 
Tripolitan colors. Anything beyond that, -it 
would be foolish to attempt." 

" Well, sir," said Decatur, " may I ask the 
honor of being the one to make the attempt ? My 
father was the Philadelphia's first commander." 

" No doubt all of my beardless captains will 
ask the same thing," answered the commodore, 
with a grim smile ; " but, as you have spoken 
first, I shall consider you have the first claim." 

"Thank you, sir," answered Decatur, rising; 
" whenever you are ready to discuss a plan, I 
shall be gratified." And he returned to the deck. 

As Decatur felt obliged to return to his ship, 
Somers went with him, and, saying good-by to 
the officers on the Constitution, the two friends 
were soon pulling across the placid harbor. 

At dinner, as they sat opposite each other in 
the cabin, with a hanging lamp between, Deca- 
tur, who was overflowing with spirits, noticed 
that Somers was, now and then, more than 
usually grave. 

" What ails you, man ? " cried Decatur. 
" Are you disappointed about anything ? " 

" Yes," answered Somers, with a very rueful 
countenance. " You will be the one to go upon 
the Philadelphia expedition. The rest of us will 
have to hang on to our anchors while you are 
doing the thing we all want to do. I had a 
presentiment as soon as you went down in the 
commodore's cabin. Here are the rest of us, 
who have been wanting to speak of this thing 
for weeks, and watching one another like hawks, 
but all afraid to beard the lion in his den ; but 
you, with your cool impudence, — just arrived, 

(To be 

never saw the commodore in your life before, — 
you go and plump out what you want at your 
first interview, and get it, too. Oh, I guessed 
the whole business, as soon as I saw you come 
out of the cabin ! " 

" You are too prudent, by half, Dick," cried 
Decatur, laughing at Somers's long face. " Now, 
if I had taken your advice about prudence, I 
never would have got the better of you." 

Then began questions about their shipmates. 
Decatur was lucky enough to have, as his first- 
lieutenant, James Lawrence, who was afterward 
to give the watchword to the American navy — 
" Don't give up the ship ! " Decatur also had 
Danny Dixon as his first quartermaster. James 
Decatur was in the squadron, although not in 
the Argus. 

The two young officers went on deck, where 
they found Danny, whom Somers went forward 
to greet. Danny was delighted to see him, and 
could not touch his cap often enough to express 
his respect for Somers's new rank. 

" Lor', Cap'n Somers, I remembers you and 
Cap'n Decatur as reefers aboard o' Old Wag- 
oner, and now I sees you both commandin' 
smart vessels, like the Airgus and the Nartilus." 

"Yes, yes," said Somers, kindly; "and we 
have a fine lot of young reefers here now." 

" Yes, sir, Mr. Macdonough, he 's a fine 
young gentleman ; and there 's a little 'un they 
calls Mr. Pickle Israel, 'cause he 's allers in a 
scrape o' some sort. But he ain't got no flunk 
at all in him, and the men says as how, when 
it 's work or fightin' to be done, that this little 
midshipmite is right on top. And we 've got as 
fine a lot o' young officers as ever I see. No 
ladybirds among 'em, — all stormy petrels, sir." 

Some days passed in giving the men on the 
Argus liberty, and in making ready for a cruise 
to Tripoli, which was to precede the great at- 
tack. The bomb vessels, and many of the 
preparations necessary for the great struggle 
with the pirates, were not completed, and would 
not be for some time; but Commodore Preble 
wisely concluded to give the Tripolitans a sight 
of his force, and also to encourage Captain 
Bainbridge and his companions in captivity, by 
the knowledge that their country had not for- 
gotten them. 
continued.) Molly Elliot Seuwell. 

By Mary L. B. Branch. 


If I tell you the story of the little dryad, 
you must not question any of the foundation 
facts. So I will just state briefly that two for- 
tunate little girls, named Janet and Prue, had 
a golden chariot with wings at the corners, 
drawn aloft in the air by two large and beauti- 
ful birds, who wore a light golden harness, and 
who could fly with inconceivable rapidity to 
incredible distances. In this chariot, Janet and 
Prue (the conditions being perfect — such as les- 
sons learned, tasks done, and mother permit- 
ting) could rest upon silken cushions, and go 
whithersoever they would. 

On one particular day, it was Prue's great de- 
sire to go to some beautiful island, where it was 
always warm, and where there were cocoanuts 
and oranges growing; some lovely, lonely, tropi- 
cal island with no savages. So they called the 
birds, and in a moment more were rising over the 
tree-tops in the golden chariot. They passed rap- 
idly over gardens, orchards, forests, mountains, 
rivers, and over the great blue sea. At last, the 
chariot began to descend, and they saw beneath 
them an island, and trees loaded with fruit. 

They found the sand strewn with bits of 
coral and numbers of delicate little shells ; and 
on the land near by, the grass grew luxuriantly, 

My dream is of an island place 
Which distant seas keep lonely ; 

A little island on whose face 
The stars are watchers only. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 

and there were a great many beautiful flowers, 
with brilliant butterflies hovering around them. 
Birds of gorgeous plumage flew overhead, now 
and then alighting and looking at the children 
with unterrified eyes. ■ One gaily colored ma- 
caw, in particular, seemed determined to keep 
in their neighborhood, and whatever way they 
turned, he would almost immediately appear on 
some rock or shrub close by. 

" I wish I could talk to him," said Prue. 

It was early in the afternoon, and the sun 
shone with such heat that Janet said they had 
better walk in the shade. They took a little 
path which led them in a roundabout way 
among the trees, and presently brought them 
into an orange-grove, where the oranges grew 
as thick as the apples in their father's apple- 
orchard at home. 

After gathering the ripest and yellowest that 
they could reach, they sat down on a shady 
bank, a happy party of two. The oranges were 
so sweet and so refreshing that it seemed as if 
they could never have enough. The macaw, 
perched on a branch close by, was watching 
them, and there were birds-of-paradise and hum- 
ming-birds coming and going all the time. 

All at once the macaw screamed so loudly 




that Janet and Prue started up in terror, and 
hastily concealed themselves behind some 
bushes, almost holding their breath in the effort 
to keep perfectly still. But nothing alarming 
followed. There was only the breeze rustling 
the leaves ever so faintly, the mute fluttering 
of the butterflies, the soft, low chance note of 
a bird. The macaw stepped down upon the 
ground and hopped about, as if uncertain 
which way to go. 

Suddenly, in the trunk of a palm-tree near by, 
a window appeared to open, the bark parting 
like blinds, and the sweetest, merriest face in 
the world peeped out. 

" Can't you find them ? " 

These words were spoken in a musical, teas- 
ing voice. The macaw, in reply, shook his 
head sadly. 

" Well, never mind, I '11 come down there 
for a little while myself." 

And now a little figure crept out through 
the palm-tree window, and with a quick spring 
alighted on the grassy turf in the very spot 
where, a short time before, the feast of oranges 
had been held. This new-comer was a little 
girl with brown eyes, browm hair that twisted 
and curled like vine-tendrils, and she was 
dressed in a scant gown of changeable green 
and woodcolor. 

" They have left me at least one, I am glad 
to see ! " she said joyously, picking up, as she 
spoke, an orange that lay on the grass. The 
macaw was still hopping and peering uncer- 
tainly about. 

" Oh, you need n't look any longer ! " ex- 
claimed the little girl. "They are safe inside 
of their trees by this time. I only wish I knew 
which trees they belong in," she added, with a 
sigh, "because then we might talk across to 
one another sometimes on moonlight nights." 

Suddenly the macaw screamed, and she 
darted to the palm-tree ; but in a moment more 
she ran out again, and said, laughing : 

"Why did you scream, Macaw ? There is 
nothing here ! Did you think they were com- 
ing back ? I wish they would ; I am so lonely 
here with nobody but Grandmother." 

" Here we are! " exclaimed two merry voices 
together, and there, all of a sudden, were Janet 
and Prue, holding the little palm-tree girl's 

hands in their hands, and pressing their warm, 
rosy lips against her cheeks. 

"You are such a darling! " said Janet. 

" Why, where did you come from ? " asked 
the little girl. " Do you live in any of these 
trees close by ? I never saw you before." 

" Live in trees ! " laughed Janet. " Why, 
what do you take us for ? " 

" Are n't you dryads ? " the little one said, 
looking startled. " / am a dryad, and I thought 
you were some of my cousins from the trees on 
the bank ! " 

" Oh, no ! " said Prue, " we are not dryads. 
But we saw you come out of that tree. How 
did you do it ? " 

" That is my home," said the little dryad, 
wonderingly. " Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! I have 
made a mistake. My old grandmother told me 
never to leave my tree unless other dryads were 
out, and now she will give me a scolding. 
There ! She sees me ! " 

Janet and Prue glanced where she pointed, 
and there, from the trunk of a very old fig-tree, 
peered a stern, dark face, and a hand beckoned 

"Oh, don't go back!" entreated Janet, as the 
little dryad hesitated. A mischievous, rebel- 
lious gleam came into the pretty brown eyes. 

" I won't go back! " she said; " I '11 pretend I 
don't see her. I 've never been away from under 
these trees in my life, and I 've always wanted 
to go down on the shore and see the waves." 

" Well, let 's go now," said Prue. And away 
they ran, all three of them, taking hold of 
hands. The macaw flew screaming after them, 
and from a great many of the trees that they 
passed startled faces seemed to look out. 

But the little dryad only laughed mockingly, 
and did not once stop running until she reached 
the sandy shore. There she stood, looking out 
on the sea, the blue, billowy sea, with its great, 
pulsating waves, fringed with foam. 

" See the dear little shells down under your 
feet," said Prue. 

The child-dryad stooped and gathered a few, 
silver and rose colored. Then she took up 
some of the shining sand, and sifted it through 
her fingers. " I wish I could live in a rock or 
a shell," she said wistfully. " Then I would 
stay here forever!" 




" Do dryads have names?" asked Prue. "I 
wonder if there are any in the trees near our 
house ! " 

" My name is Sylvie," answered the little 
one. "Why don't you live in trees yourselves?" 

The girls laughed merrily. " We do live in a 
house of trees," said Prue ; " but the trees had 
to be cut down first and sawed into boards." 

" There ! I knew you were a sort of dryad ! " 
exclaimed Sylvie. "Where is your house ? " 

" Oh ! it is in another country, far away ! " 
said Janet, earnestly ; " and I do wish you 
would let us take you there. There is an old 
pear-tree in the corner of our yard, by the stone 
wall, and I know there is n't any dryad living 
in it, for when I stand on tiptoe on the wall I 
can just manage to look down in a deep hole 
there is in the trunk, and it is all dark and 
empty. I dropped some little stones in there 
one day. Can't you come and live in that 
tree ? We will come there and play with you 
every day." 

" Oh, do, do, do!" entreated Prue, throwing 
her arms about the little dryad and kissing her. 

" I wonder if I dare ! " said the little dryad, 

" Oh, please, please, do ! " chorused Janet 
and Prue. The macaw, who had mounted a 
gray rock close by, flapped his wings and 
screamed warningly. 

" I believe I will go," said Sylvie, " if only to 
get away from the macaw. I will go and live 
in your pear-tree. But how can you take me? " 

" In our chariot," said Janet, eagerly. " Prue, 
call the birds, and we will go at once ! " 

In a few moments more they were all three 
seated in the chariot, and rising gently in the 
air. Sylvie looked down upon the beautiful 
island which had always been her home. 

" Good-by, sisters ! Good-by, Macaw ! " she 
said, and there was just a little sadness in her 
voice; but still she wanted to go. 

Away over sea and land, over mountains and 
valleys, onward the chariot sped, and the sun 
was not yet setting when it came softly to the 
ground, right among the hollyhocks in the yard 
by the little brown cottage. Sylvie was pale 
and trembling as she stepped out. 

"The pear-tree, quick, quick!" she whis- 
pered; "I am so frightened here!" 

Janet and Prue . hastened with her to the 
corner by the stone wall, and the instant she 
reached the tree she sprang lightly up to the 
opening in the trunk, and immediately disap- 
peared in it. The girls waited a little while, 
and then called anxiously, "Sylvie! Sylvie!" 

Presently her face appeared at the opening, 
and she looked more at her ease. 

" It is very nice in here," she said, " though 
I think no one has lived here for a long time." 

" Mama is calling us in," said Janet, "so we 
must go now. But we will come to-morrow 
morning, and bring things with us, and play. 
Good night." 

" Good night, "replied Sylvie, drawing in her 
pretty head. 

When Janet and Prue went to bed that night, 
the last thing they said before going to sleep 
was : " Oh, how very nice it is to have a little 
dryad of our own ! " 

When they awoke in the morning, their first 
thought was of Sylvie; but their mother wanted 
their help about getting breakfast and clearing 
it away, so that it was not until the dew was 
nearly dry on the grass that they made their 
way to the old hollow pear-tree, carrying in 
their hands a doll, a picture-book, a cup of milk, 
and a piece of cake. 

" Sylvie ! Sylvie ! " they called, and instantly 
her bright little face appeared at the opening. 
" Come down and play," they said. " See, we 
have brought things for you." 

The little dryad laughed. " I don't care for 
things like those," she said ; " but I should like 
to run about over the grass, and I should like 
to see your house." 

She sprang down, bringing in her hand a 
string of beads, which Janet hailed with delight. 

" I lost them ever so long ago," she said ; 
" but I did not know they were down in the 
pear-tree. I must have dropped them there." 

Prue pointed out the window of the room 
where she and her sister slept. A wistaria vine 
had grown up higher than the window-sill. 

" Come into the house," she said, " and we 
will take you up-stairs." 

" These are my stairs on the outside," said 
Sylvie, quickly ; "I am afraid to go up any 
way but my own." 

And running to the vine, she climbed it with 

i8 9 4-: 


68 I 

such ease and lightness that the 
children had hardly time to cry 
" Oh ! Oh ! " before she was safe in- 
side the window, and smiling down 
at them. 

The two girls went up the usual 

(SEE PAGE 679.) 

Vol. XXL— 86-87. 

way, and joined Sylvie in 
their little bedchamber, 
where they began to take 
out one treasure after an- 
other to show to her. But 
Sylvie did not seem to be 
impressed by their Sunday 
bonnets and their best rib- 
bons, and she laughed with merry disdain at 
their proposal to lend her shoes and stockings 
to cover her little bare feet. But there was a 
small green parasol of Prue's that she at first 
wondered at, and then took such delight in 
that Prue made her a present of it on the spot. 




While Janet and Prue were thus occupied 
with their guest, their mother called them to 
dinner. This startled Sylvie, but when she re- 
treated toward the window, the girls seized her 
good-naturedly and compelled her to go down 
with them. They would have had her sit be- 


tween them at the table, but the little wood- 
land dryad, slipping from their grasp, sprang 
through the doorway, over the step, and across 
the grassy yard, with a speed so swift that they 
could not overtake her, and by the time they 
reached the pear-tree she was already safely 
hidden within it, and just barely peeping out. 

" Come and play with vis ! " they cried. 

" I can't play any more to-day," she said, 
wearily, " I am too tired." 

" Poor little thing ! " said Janet, compassion- 
ately. ' : Well, never mind; we will come again 
for you to-morrow." 

" Yes, to-morrow," answered the little dryad, 

and her voice breathed so much sadness that it 
quite haunted the girls for the rest of the day. 
But oh, how many secret plans they made about 
her! They were so glad that they had brought 
her away from the island, and that they had her 
safe in their own pear-tree. 

" We will keep her dressed just like our- 
selves," said Janet, " and we will teach her 
how to sew and mend." 

" Yes, and teach her to read," said Prue, 
"and have her learn the multiplication-table." 

And then they planned which of their things 
they would give her. They thought they 
would let her have some of their story-books, 
and cut out work for her, and let her help 
weed the flower-beds. And maybe they could 
have their picture taken all together. 

The next morning, as early as possible, Janet 
and Prue hastened to the pear-tree, and Janet 
called " Sylvie ! Sylvie ! " 

But there was no answer. No bright little 
face peeped out of the hollow trunk above her. 

Janet called again and again, and so did Prue. 
They called kindly, and then impatiently, and 
then coaxingly, and finally they commanded 
her, but all in vain. There was no answer, no 
little face, and a strange dread crept over them. 

" Let 's climb up and look in," said Janet. 

" I 'm afraid," whispered Prue. 

So Janet climbed up with some difficulty, 
but could see nothing in the deep, dark hollow. 

" She 's run away ! " said Janet, dropping to 
the ground and looking at Prue with a very 
sober face. 

" Yes, she must have," sighed Prue. 

" I suppose, maybe," said Janet, thoughtfully, 
" she did not like to go into houses and do the 
way other folks do." 

" I 'm sorry we tried to make her," said Prue ; 
" she could have played with us in the fields." 

" Well, anyhow, she has carried off that green 
parasol," said Janet. 

" That 's good ! " exclaimed Prue. " It will 
make her remember us." 

They felt so depressed at the loss of their 
little dryad that they did not play very much 
that day; but in the afternoon they took a walk 
up the woody hill behind the house, for it 
seemed to them as if they might perhaps find 
Sylvie hiding there. 

i8 94 ] 


68 3 

They pushed on and on, with scarcely any 
path ; but they did not mind the underbrush, 
and the air was sweet, and the birds sang over- 
head. Every little while they called, " Sylvie ! 
Sylvie! " very gently; but there was no answer, 
only the singing of the birds. 

After climbing the hill for an hour, they 
found the trees growing farther apart, ami 
among them rocks covered with gray lichens 
on which the sun shone. The girls sat down 
to rest on one of these rocks. 

" This is a very pretty place," said Prue. 
" See that little brook running over a rock." 

" If Sylvie came here, she would like it too 
well to go any farther," said Janet. Was it 
a light ripple of laughter they heard, 
or only the plash of the shallow, 
shining brook ? They looked 
before them, behind them, 1 

and on every side, but the 
sound had ceased. 

" What is that big green 
leaf in the side of that birch- 
tree away over there ? " asked 
Prue. " It does n't look like 
a birch-leaf! " 

"We '11 find out!" said 
Janet, springing up. They 
ran together toward the tree, 
and when half-way there 
Janet cried: 

"Why, it's your green para- 
sol, Prue, as true as you live 

" Then Sylvie is there 
Oh, Sylvie! Sylvie!" ex- 
claimed Prue, eagerly. 
When they reached 
the tree and stopped, 
breathless, the parasol 
moved a little, was 
closed and drawn in, 
and in another instant 
Sylvie herself peeped 
out at them, timid and 

'• Why did you run 
away ? " demanded Janet. 

"Do come back!" pleaded Prue. " We have 
not shown you the pretty pasture nor the river- 
banks. Do come to the pear-tree again ! " 

" Oh, no ! " murmured the little dryad, with 
a shudder. " I do not like your houses nor your 
roads. I am afraid of the men and wheels, 
and the dreadful noises and tramping. I love 
you dearly, little sisters, but I must stay among 
the trees with my own people." 

"Are there other dryads here ?" asked Janet, 
looking about her anxiously. 

The little dryad nodded. " Plenty of them," 
she whispered, " but they don't want you to 
know it. If you come here hunting for them, 
they will all go away to other forests, where no 
human foot ever treads. But they love this 
spot, and I love it too. I found just the home 


for me in this tree as soon as I reached it 
last night." 

" Please come and play," coaxed Prue. 



But the little dryad shook her head. 

" I cannot play with you any more," she said, 
a little sadly. " I must never come out again 
except when the dryads call me. I dare not 
venture. But I love this spot, and I shall live 
here happily, only you must not come here 
to frighten the dryads, or we shall all depart 

" Oh, dear ! " said Prue, with tears in her 
eyes, " I did not want to lose you ! " 

Janet argued and entreated, but all in vain. 
The little dryad grew still more firm, and at 
last drew her pretty curly head down quite 
out of sight. 

The girls waited under the birch-tree and 
called her many times, but she would not show 
herself again; so at length, as the sun was get- 
ting low and clouds were gathering, they slowly 
left the place to go down the hill, homeward 

bound. As they entered the denser part of 
the forest, they heard far behind them a sweet 
little voice calling : 

" Good-by ! " 

They turned and caught one last glimpse of 
Sylvie. Prue said afterward that she was sure she 
saw other pretty faces peeping from other trees. 

" Good-by ! " the two girls called back in re- 
ply, and then hand in hand they ran down the 
hill as fast as the underbrush would let them, 
and were glad when they saw the smoke curling 
up from the chimney of their own home, where 
they knew their dear mother was getting sup- 
per for them. 

" I like my own folks ! " said Janet, as they 
entered the yard. 

"So do I," said Prue; "but I like Sylvie 
too, and I am so sorry she could n't stay in 
the pear-tree ! " 


By E. L. S. 

" The best time /can 


Said the boy from 

across the street, 

" Was when we played 

the Spartan nine, 

The day that our 

side beat." 

"My best fun was a 
year ago," 
Said the boy who never will fight, 
When father and I went fishing once, 
And slept outdoors all night." 

Well," said the boy from the comer house, 
The jolliest time for me, 

Was the summer they took me on a yacht, 
And we lived six weeks at sea." 

" And the greatest fun / ever had," 
Said the boy who lives next door. 

" Was sailing down the river once, 
And camping out on shore." 

" The very best time / ever had," 
Said the boy with the reddish hair, 

"Was in Chicago, last July — 
The time I went to the Fair." 

" It seems to me," said the lazy boy 
(And his cap he thoughtfully thumps), 

" That the very best time in all my life 
Was the week I had the mumps." 


There lived a lad in Moscow, 
Named Ivanitch Pacoskow, 

Who went to school 

And followed rule 
Of old Professor Boskow. 

,liil I 


'Vol'1'J.JJ.ui.. .'«M 

._ iVi ,||ii!i-ifl.ii;im!i;. u;'M i'(iirr 


His comrades were Wyzinkski 

And Feodor Duchinkski, 

• And Scarrovitch, 

And Polonitch, 

And Paderew Polinkski. 

It took Professor Boskow 
Full half a day in Moscow 
To call the roll 
And name each soul 
Who came to him in Moscow. 

To read and write did Boskow 
Next teach the lads in Moscow, 

But called to spell 

They did rebel, 
So queer were names in Moscow 

68 S 


{Sixth paper of the series, " Quadrupeds of North America.") 

By W. T. Hornaday. 

This time we have a party of strangers to 
introduce. Excepting the Racoon himself, all 
the members of his family {Procyonida) are 
about as little known to the average American 
boy and girl as the aardvark. The reason for 
this is that unless we go to the Southwest, and 
Mexico, we cannot see them in a state of 
nature, and very few persons have taken the 
trouble to write about them for us. But they 
are very curious and interesting creatures, and 
should be better known. 

I never shall forget how a lady once mys- 
tified me with a description of a little animal 
she owned — all but its name. She had pur- 
chased it of a dealer in wild animals in New 
York, who could not name it, even for money; 
and she had owned it a month and asked a 
dozen people without getting even a good sug- 
gestion as to its name. She described the little 
creature to me as " about so long " (head and 
body, fifteen inches; tail, sixteen), with a prehen- 
sile tail. " No ; it is not a monkey, for it has n't 
got feet like a monkey." " No ; it 's not an 
opossum of any kind." "No; it is n't a silky 
ant-eater, for it 's too big." " No ; it 's not a 
prehensile-tailed porcupine, for its fur is soft"; 
and so on, until I was at my wit's end. 

Finally, she sent the living conundrum to 
me by express, and it was a Kinkajou. Man- 
like, I had thought 
of nearly every mam- 
mal that is found in 
North America except the right one ! 

He had been gentleness itself with his gentle 
mistress, but he seemed to expect different 
treatment from the masculine Philistines into 
whose hands he had fallen, and at first he 
scratched and bit as if his life depended upon 
it. But gradually he became quite docile, and 
lived with us on the best of terms — and ba- 

{Cer-co-Iep'tes cau-di-vol? 


nanas — for several months. He sat for his 
photograph one day, and all his points were 
well taken. 

In personal appearance the Kinkajou (pro- 
nounced kink'-a-jew) looks very much like a 
little woolly haired, golden-brown monkey (or 
lemur, to be more exact) with a prehensile tail. 

It has a head like a pine-marten, with very 
large black eyes. His teeth have caused natu- 
ralists to class him as a carnivore, in sublime 
indifference to the fact that he is a fruit-eater, 
both when wild and in captivity, and would 
soon starve upon a meat diet. It is quite prob- 
able, however, that when at home he devours 
eggs and small birds, as do so many arboreal 
mammals of the tropics. Nature has made 
many queer combinations, and this little crea- 
ture is one of them. Very little is known of its 
habits in a wild state, because it is as strictly 
nocturnal as an owl. In captivity he preferred 
to sleep all day rolled up in a ball, with his 
head resting on the soft coil- of his coiled-up 
tail. He used to clamber over me with great 
freedom and confidence, often encircling my 
neck with his tail to steady himself, and hold 
on. In Central America this little animal is 
often tamed, and makes a very satisfactory pet. 
. The home of the Kinkajou is in the hottest 
portion of the American tropics. It is found 
from Central America southward through Gua- 
temala, Costa Rica, and northern South Amer- 
ica to the Rio Negro and Peru. In Costa Rica 
it is called Martilla, or Little Marten ; in 
Mexico it is the Martica, and in Guatemala it 
is called Micoleon. It lives almost wholly in 
the trees, and makes its nest in a hollow trunk. 

But if the Kinkajou was a riddle not to be 
solved by a stuffer of animals from a verbal des- 
cription, what shall we say of the quadruped 
that has been wrongly identified and misnamed 



by scientific writers nearly thirty times (so says 

Dr. J. A. Allen) since the great Linnaeus first 

described it in 1766 ? The Coati Mondi seems 

to have been created for the 
coati mondi. ■ , c c ■ 

special purpose of confusing 

iXas'u-anari-ca) ...... , ,° 

and humiliating the tech- 
nical naturalists. He has " taken a fall " out of 
every zoologist who has 

wrestled with him, from 
the days of Linna;us, 
who gave him the gen- 
eric name of the Civet 
Cat, down to Dr. Allen. 
He has successfullv 
floored Frenchmen, 
Germans, Dutchmen, 
Englishmen, and Am- 
ericans. At last, in 
1879, Dr. Allen threw 
him fairly, named him 
correctly, and put him 
in the place where he 
really belongs. 

The Latin name of 
this animal is Nasua 
narica, which being 
freely and truthfully 
translated means 

"Nosey"! And he de- 
serves it. His muzzle 
is drawn out into a 
long, slender snout like 
that of an ant-eater, 
almost prehensile in 
character, and of great 
value in seeking food. 
It is so elastic that 
when he needs to get 
it out of his way in 
eating or drinking, he 
can turn it straight up 
at a right angle with 
his face ; and yet it 
possesses sufficient 

strength to be used in rooting up the ground 
in quest of grubs or worms, like the snout of 
a pig, and its ambition is to get into every- 
thing above-ground. 

The Coati Mondi is indeed a strange ani- 
mal, both in form and habits. In shape he is 

like a miniature bear, all excepting his long 
and pointed muzzle and his remarkable tail. 
Shorten the one and cut off the other, and you 
will have a very good bear, although, it may 
be, a trifle too short in the legs to suit the fas- 
tidious. He is flat-sided, bow-legged in his 
fore legs, with a massive forearm, beady black 


eyes, a very restless disposition, and a shrill 
squeak for a cry in captivity. In size the 
fully grown animal is about the size of a fox- 
terrier. His hair is long and full, but rather 
harsh, and its prevailing color is chestnut- 
brown above and pale yellow underneath. 




The nose itself is very dark brown in color, and 
the eyes are set in the middle of conspicuous 
white patches, suggesting the glasses of a pair of 
spectacles. The ears are small and quite bear- 
like in shape. 

The tail of this animal is a truly wonderful 
appendage, and as used by the living animal 
always makes me think of a snake. It is nearly 

He described it as one of the feline animals, 
calling it " warracaba tiger," which at that 
time threw me completely off the track of its 
identity. Paulie said it was the fiercest of all 
South American animals, and always hunted 
in packs strong enough to overcome and de- 
vour everything that came in their way. They 
could climb trees in search of their prey as 


as long as the head and body, very thick at 
the base, from which it tapers down regularly 
to the end where it terminates in a sharp, snake- 
like point. In young specimens it is sometimes 
ornamented with several dark rings, like the 
tail of a racoon, but these disappear almost 
entirely in the full-grown animals. 

When I was in British Guiana, Paulie, a na- 
tive hunter whom I had for a companion in 
the jungle, told me strange tales of a fierce 
wild animal that inhabited those forests, strange 
in form, active in habits, and terrible in temper. 

well as any cat, could descend a tree head 
first, and their bands swept through the forest 
like a devouring army, uttering a low, grunting 
noise as they went. He told me how he and 
some other hunters, while encamped on the 
bank of a river at night, were aroused by the 
sound of an approaching band of warracaba 
tigers. Springing from their hammocks they 
fled to their canoes, abandoning everything, 
and paddled for mid-stream. When the cy- 
clone of teeth and claws had passed, they re- 
turned to their plundered camp to find it a 

1 894 ! 




complete wreck. Everything eatable had dis- 
appeared, fruit and vegetables as well as meat. 
He had never killed one of these fearful ani- 
mals, and in fact had never seen one, nor even 
the skin of one, for no hunter of his acquain- 
tance had ever dared to attempt to kill one 
of these unknown terrors. So far as Paulie 
knew, the creature had never been seen by a 
white man ! 

Well, this fearful (!) creature was simply our 
old friend, the Coati Mondi, magnified by igno- 
rance and fear. Paulie's account of its habits was 
quite truthful in every re- 
spect, save that its fierce- 
ness wasmagnified about 
100 diameters ; andwhen 
I saw one chained to a 
box and kept as a pet 
in the courtyard of a 
house in the city of 
Bolivar, I little dreamed 
that so friendly and play- 
ful a creature could ever 
acquire such an evil 
reputation. This was 
the Brazilian species, or 
Red Coati Mondi. Ours 
is the Mexican Coati 
Mondi, called Tejon 
by the Mexicans, a 
trifle larger than the 
other, which inhabits 
the whole region from 
Southern Texas to Pan- 
ama, where the home 
of the other species be- 
gins. In Costa Rica 
and Guatemala, where 
it is called the Pisoto, 
it is found very frequent- 
ly in the mountain for- 
ests, often at an eleva- 
tion of 6000 to 7000 
feet. Mr. Belt, the 
naturalist, often saw 
them in the forests of 
Nicaragua hunting big 

tree-climbing lizards called iguanas. When the 
Pisoto hunted alone, and climbed for his game, 
the iguanas would always drop to the ground 

and escape ; but when the Pisotos hunted in a 
band, the unfortunate iguana would fall from his 
enemy in the tree only to land in the hungry 
jaws waiting below. 

The Coati Mondi is easily tamed, and is of- 
ten kept in captivity. Mr. Samuel Lockwood 
once published in the Popular Science Monthly 
(1872) a most interesting and amusing account 
of the life and adventures of a " Nosey" that 
he had kept as a pet. Judging from his des- 
cription I should say it would be hard to find 
among wild quadrupeds a more interesting or 
amusing pet than this species. 

the racoon is the animal next in order, 
{Pra'cy-au utor) and the type of this family, 
but he is so well known it seems almost un- 
necessary to pause in front of his cage. 


For who does not know this cunning, mischiev- 
ous, good-tempered rogue, that stretches his 
hairy arms far out between the bars of his 




cage, and offers you the black paw of good- 
fellowship whenever you come near him ? 
His beady black eyes twinkle at you over 
his cunningly pointed nose, and their expres- 
sion is, " Say, old fellow ! You and I are 
good friends, and won't you just get me out of 
this? — or at least give me something new 
to eat ? " The temper of this animal is most 
amiable, and, being easily fed, he makes a very 
satisfactory pet. 

There are many things about the Coon that 
I always liked, one of which is the good sense 
he shows about his rations. He will eat any- 


thing under the sun that 
is good, from a live rabbit 
down to green corn. He 
is n't always sticking up 
his nose at what is set before him on the table, 
as do some American boys and girls, and say- 
ing, " I can't eat this ! " or " I don't like that ! " 
but whenever food is put before him, he im- 

mediately sets to work to get outside of it. In 
a wild state he is fond of fruit of all kinds. 
He loves fresh-water clams, salt-water oysters, 
eggs, young birds, fish, crabs, frogs, grubs, and 
when green corn is in season, the farmers' fields 
pay heavy tribute to the ring-tailed marauders. 
The Racoon is very fond of paddling in 
water, and of dipping his food into water before 
eating it, whence comes his Latin name of 
lotor, meaning " washer." The Germans call 
him the " Washing Bear," which is by no 
means a bad name. His true home is the 
heavily timbered regions of the southern and 
eastern United States, 
especially where there 
are swamps. His home 
is a hollow tree, and his 
yearly family consists of 
either four, five, or six 
little Coons, even more 
cunning in appearance 
than himself. In the 
West he ranges from 
Oregon to southern 
x\laska. If our space 
permitted, something 
should be said of the 
great American pas- 
time of coon-hunting ; 
but another stranger 
claims our attention. 

I wonder how many 
of our boys and girls 
have ever heard of the 

{Bas-sar is as-tu'tn), 

or Cacomistle, of the 
southwestern United 
States. I did not 
really make its ac- 
quaintance until I was 
over twenty-five years 
old, chiefly because no one took the trouble to 
write about it in anything that was accessible 
to me. This lively little creature has not so 
many common names as it has hairs in its tail, 
but it has very nearly. Look at the array, for 
it is a curious collection : 

Cacomiztli, or Caca-mixtli (Bush Cat), of 
the Mexicans; Tepe-maxtla (Rush Cat), of the 




Mexicans ; Cacomistle, English by adoption 
and alteration from the Mexicans; Cat Squirrel, 
of southern Texas; Mountain Cat, of the Cali- 
fornian miners; Racoon Fox, of Arkansas; 
Civet Cat, of Professor Baird and others; Ring- 
tailed Bassaris, of Audubon and Bachman ; 
Northern Civet Cat, of Dr. J. A. Allen ; Texas 
Civet Cat, of Texans generally ; Ring-tailed 
Civet Cat, and Mexican Civet Cat of the 

As may justly be inferred from its many 
names, this curious creature bears striking re- 
semblances to several widely separated animals. 
It climbs trees, and it nests in hollow branches 
or trunks, like a squirrel ; it scratches, bites, and 
catches rats, like a cat ; it has a ringed tail and 
a many-sided appetite, like a racoon, and a 
head somewhat like a fox's. In size it measures 
about sixteen inches in length of head and 
body, and the tail to the end of the hair is of 
about the same length. The general color of 
this little creature is a warm gray, or brownish 
gray. Its tail is encircled by five to eight 
conspicuous black rings, and has a black tip. 
When you see a United States animal, other 
than the racoon, with a long, bushy tail, having 
a number of black rings around it, call it a 
Northern Civet Cat, and you will be right. It 
is risky to make a general statement about an 
animal, but I will make bold to say that, so far 
as I can remember to-day, and pending correc- 
tion, the Bassaris is the only American ani- 
mal besides the racoon having a bushy tail 
with big black rings around it. Our species is 
found in all our southwestern States and Terri- 
tories, and in California ; and solitary specimens 
have been taken in Ohio and Oregon. It is 
very agile, and usually lives in trees like a 
squirrel. It also lives among rocks, and often 

makes its home in outbuildings, or deserted 
ranches. It is by habit a night-prowler, and 
often plays havoc with poultry. By some au- 
thorities its food is said to be chiefly small 


mammals and birds, and others say that it lives 
mostly on fruit, pecans, and other nuts. Will 
the Southwestern readers of St, Nicholas 
kindly tell us which is correct ? 

It is often tamed and allowed the freedom 
of a house, when it nearly always proceeds to 
clear the premises of mice and rats. Mr. E. M. 
Hasbrouck once sent one to me from Brown- 
wood, Texas, where they are common. He 
found it running loose in a store, as tame and 
playful as any pet squirrel. It usually retired 
behind the boxes during the day, but at dusk 
came out to frolic and feed. This one lived on 
fruit exclusively, and its owner stated that its 
mate had died from eating a little meat. Un- 
fortunately the little fellow sent me died on its 
journey. Mr. Hasbrouck caught a wild speci- 
men in a trap baited with a piece of an apple, 
set in a hollow log, and when cornered it 
scratched and bit furiously, snarling and spit- 
ting like a cat. 


By Anna K. Almy. 

Monsieur et Madame Jean Crapaud 
Thought to the Fair they both would go ; 
So they packed in a trunk their Sunday best 
And started off on their journey west. 

"Ah, Jean, man cher, c'est magiiiftquef" 
Said Antoinette, when she could speak; 
And he replied, with much esprit, 

" Superbe ! sitperbe ! ma belle che'rie." 


By Benjamin Webster. 

A clever old fox lived in the edge of a 
wood near a town. And he would n't have 
been an old fox if he had n't been clever, 
for not far away was the house of the master 
of the fox-hounds, who often did his best to 
catch the sly old fellow who poached upon his 

Many a narrow escape Reynard remembered, 
and he became very bold. He began to think 
that no pack of dogs were sagacious enough to 
run him down, and so he was often careless. 
Sometimes he would even break cover when he 
was well hidden, so that he might have the fun of 
running away from the whole pack in full cry. 
But one morning he came so near to being 
caught that he made up his mind never to take 
unnecessary risks again. 

He had been visiting a farm-yard that was 
quite a way from his burrow, and when he 
came home again he found that the burrow had 
been filled up with earth. At first Reynard 
thought that it was done by the badger who 
had lived in the hole before Reynard drove him 
out ; but soon he saw the marks of a spade, and 
knew that a man had been there. 

While he was examining the burrow, suddenly 
he heard the cry of the hounds, and he knew 
that the hunt was out, and was after him. He 
dropped the fat hen he was carrying, and trot- 
ted away from the dogs, meaning to slip out 
along a little ravine he knew of. But no sooner 
had he reached the edge of the wood than he 
heard a man shout. Then he knew he would 
have to run for it. 

Away he shot, his long brush sweeping the 
ground. The hounds came straight after him, 
and he had to increase his speed. But, tired 
from his long journey, he found the hounds 
gaining upon him, and saw that he would not 
be able to reach the little ravine in which he 
had so often puzzled the keenest hounds. 

Still at full speed, he looked right and left, 

and saw a thick row of bushes on one side. 
Turning sharply, he ran toward them, for he 
knew there was a railway-cutting behind them, 
and hoped to cross it in time to reach the fur- 
ther bank before the dogs. Once hidden from 
the huntsmen, he knew of twenty tricks by 
which to throw off the dogs and get away to 
safe cover. 

Unfortunately, as he leaped through the row 
of bushes, his hind legs caught between two 
springy shoots that held him like a trap. Nearer 
came the dogs; harder poor Reynard struggled; 
but, try as he would, he could not pull his legs 
through between the stems. He was about to 
give up the struggle, when he heard the rattlety- 
bang of a freight-train coming along the track. 
This scared the fox more than ever, for he 
thought that it might keep him from crossing 
the track even if he should free himself. 

He struggled desperately, and, at last, by a 
quick push of his fore legs, threw his body back 
from between the sticks. He was at liberty, — 
but yist then the hounds were upon him ! 

Reynard made one long leap half-way down 
the bank, and at that moment the train came 
opposite him so he could n't cross the track. 
But Reynard then showed what a bright old 
fox he was, for, giving another jump, with the 
foremost hounds at his very heels, he caught 
the rear end of a platform car — the last car 
of the moving train. Then, feeling quite safe, 
Reynard turned his head and gave the baffled 
hounds a farewell smile. 

Reynard, after this close shave, made up 
his mind to find a home not quite so near the 
fox-hounds. He remained on the train until he 
was well out of reach, and he never went back 
to his old quarters. This was unfortunate for 
the poor little rabbit whose burrow Reynard 
stole when he took a new home. 

The huntsmen often wondered how the fox 
got away, but the dogs never told. 




^Ib^Vl **&' <$m-- - -l' i 'w* ia^L^ Mm^'^^i^j ■ 

■BK^ — — -*• ^^~ - ■ ■ .. 

(TOW \,*T! W 

■''.; ,: K.- 


, ■•■•■■ ^ 

a M6& y j^| 


i-' * 

^ ^^B 


Stt " /J 



\ m^H 



m Sfitfral' 

» J 




Jf : 

i^^ ^^r^ 

1 I^Bh ifel i PP& 



1 ; 



By Mary Hallock Foote. 


'Mm it '-■ W 

j^".\ ;■• ' ' ""- : 



r, ' v :"Vi-V" 

: ; ■*."■■"-- 

.- . 

"- . 

*jK? '"*" " 

- .."'■"'• i 




Part ii. (Conclusion.) 

" I do believe those people are coming to 
camp at our well ! " Mrs. Croly exclaimed, in 
an injured voice; and she walked to the end 
of the piazza the better to see what " those peo- 
ple" were doing. 

They were a weak and a short-handed com- 
pany : only a woman and a slender lad, of per- 
haps fifteen, and they were, in a dawdling, 
helpless fashion, making camp for the night, 
below the hill. 

The family had watched them leave the 
main road, where the last of the contractor's 
teams were moving out toward the railroad in 
a vale of dust, and make straight across the 
sage-brush for the well. 

Now they were unhitching the lean mules, 
in their dusty harness, from the canvas-topped 
wagon ; the woman was helping the boy ; and 
the spare animals belonging to the outfit had 

been loosed from the wagon-tail and were 
dragging themselves stiffly about and snuffing 
around the empty drinking-trough. 

'• They look like the fag-end of some poor fel- 
low's outfit," said Mr. Croly. " The man has 
probably taken his working force off on some 
other job and left the old woman in charge of 
the baggage-train." 

" I don't see any baggage," observed Mrs. 
Croly. " And they don't seem to have any 
feed for their horses. I suppose we shall have 
them here till the snow falls, borrowing ev- 
erything we have got. And the well is low 
already. Why don't you ask them to move on, 
David ? They might just as well camp by 
the river." 

" Well, I guess we won't ask them to move 
on to-night," said Mr. Croly. " They look as 
if they had moved, about as far as they are 

" While you were fencing I don't see why 



6 9 ; 

you did n't fence in the well," Mrs. Croly com- 
plained. " We always have some tramp outfit 
camping there, and Hetty is bewitched after 
that sort of people." 

" When I fence in water it will be when wa- 
ter is more plenty in this valley than it is now," 
said Mr. Croly. " I know what it is to travel 
miles after dark looking for camp. No, Mo- 
ther; I dug the well, but I did n't put the water 
in it ; and I don't ask a man for his character 
before I give him a drink." 

" Of course, I know, dear," the wife admit- 
ted ; " but you don't know how crazy Hetty is 
after people — any kind ; it does n't matter to 
her. She will want to hang around that wagon 
all day long. And there is no telling the talk 
she will pick up, — to say nothing of diseases 
they may have with them." 

" Nonsense, Rachel ! " said Mr. Croly. " A 
good meal of victuals will cure all the diseases 
they 've got. If they had any, they 'd have 
died of 'em, long ago, I believe. What is 
the use of worrying ? They may be gone by 

In about an hour the lad came up the hill, 
to borrow an ax " to cut a little bresh to fry a 
little meat for supper." 

Mr. Croly quizzed him a little at first, asking 
how he came to be teaming it through the 
sage-brush without an ax. The boy said their 
ax had " slipped out of one of the packs, some- 
how," and Mr. Croly inquired how long ago 
that was — last summer, perhaps ? The lad 
smiled faintly and shifted his eyes, making no 
effort to keep up his end of the pleasantry. 

Next morning, before sunrise, he and his mo- 
ther were drawing water for the animals at the 
well. Afterward the woman made a little fire 
on the ground behind the wagon, and they ate 
breakfast, standing; and the boy drove the 
stock away to pick up what pasture they could 
find during the day. 

" They have come to stay," said Mrs. Croly. 
" She has been up to borrow a cupful of yeast 
to set a little bread." 

Mrs. Croly had looked into the woman's 
tired brown eyes and seen what she thought 
was sorrow there, and her first repellent feeling 
was gone. Nevertheless it was a trial to have 
all her forebodings so promptly fulfilled. 

Hetty came flying in about noon, with a red 
face, all excitement and joy : 

" He 's got an accordion ! " she shrieked ; 
" and he says he '11 play on it if I can come 
down after supper. And he says if Martha 
can't walk he '11 carry her." 

"Who in the world is 'he'?" asked Mrs. 
Croly, in the unsympathetic way of mothers 
when they are taken by surprise. 

" The boy, the boy! He is such a nice boy, 
Mother. Guess what his name is, — Gess ! " 

" How should I guess it — and what is his 
name to us? Don't be foolish, Hetty." 

" But I have just told you his name," cried 
Hester, gleefully. "His name is Gess — Natty 
Gess. Do laugh, Mother." And Hetty ran 
away to make Martha laugh at the joke about 
Natty's name. 

Both little girls came running, presently, to 
make sure of Mother's consent to their going 
below that evening to hear Natty play the ac- 
cordion. It ended in Mr. Croly's going with 
them and sitting through the doleful perform- 
ance. They sat all together in a circle on the 
ground in the rear of the wagon. The woman, 
always in her sunbonnet, tended a low fire, or 
" smudge," which kept away the mosquitos. The 
wind flapped the dingy wagon-sheet, the coy- 
otes howled in the darkness, the family horses 
stamped in the stable, and the stranger's lean 
cattle hung wistfully about the corral, smelling 
the good hay which was not for them. 

" Can't they have some, Father ? — just one 
good meal?" Hetty whispered. She had watched 
the forlorn brutes, and knew what their hungry, 
restless movements meant. 

" Dear little girl," said her father, " if we 
should try to fill all the empty stomachs that 
come our way, we should soon have nothing 
to put in our own." 

Little Martha fell asleep listening to the 
"Suwanee River," urged forth in the whining, 
low notes of the accordion. Next morning she 
begged for the boy and his music. He came 
and played to her again, and again the music 
sent her to sleep. His yellow face and big 
brown eyes and faded hair, his slow smiles and 
shifting glances, seemed to have a charm for 
both children. Hetty was always at the well 
when the strangers' stock were being watered, 




discussing their merits and afflictions with the 
boy. Her greatest ambition in the future of 
their stay, which seemed to be indefinite, was 
that she might be allowed to ride behind 
Natty to drive his cattle to pasture — so called 
— or to round them up at night. 

As for little Martha, her thin, wistful face took 
on a rested look the moment her eyes fell upon 
Natty. He played before her, at her sovereign 
pleasure, as David played before moody Saul ; 
and the spell of his queer music, and of his 

slow, quaint talk, seemed to bring peace to her 
ailment, which the doctor had said was chiefly 
of the nerves. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Gess continued to borrow, 
and to lament the distance to town, and Natty's 
lack of time for making such a journey. Her 
husband, as Mr. Croly had surmised, had gone 
with his able teams to " do a little freighting " 
before winter set in. He had not been paid for 
his work on the ditch, but trusted to get the 
money after a while. They seemed absolutely 
without resources, the mother and the boy, yet 

without anxiety or fear for the future. " We 
shall certainly have to take care of them this 
winter," said Mrs. Croly, — "that is, if we stay 

One Sunday morning Martha woke early, and 
begged and fretted to be dressed " right away." 
To make her happy, Hetty began telling her a 
story. The door between the children's room 
and their mother's stood ajar, and Mrs. Croly 
heard parts of the story while she was dressing. 

" Where did you read that story, Hetty ? " 
she asked, standing in the doorway and looking 
in with a smile. 

" I did n't read it, Mother." 

" Where did you hear it, then ? " 

" I never heard it — that is, all of it. But Natty 
told me about the cave, and I made up the rest." 

" Does he know of such a place ? " 

" Not with water in it, really ; but he knows 
a hole in the rocks where there is a sound like 
water coming from a far way off, and rushing 

Hetty's story was about a poor settler who 
was " holding down " a desert claim, like her 
father's, only he had no well, and the dry pas- 
ture was giving out all around him. His horses 
had grown so thin it seemed, when he saddled 
one, the cinch would cut it in two, and when 
he rode one bareback it seemed the creature's 
spine would cut him in two : so Hetty told it, 
with much feeling for the man and his starving 

Every morning he rode them to the river to 
water; but the river was miles away, and as 
they grew weaker with hunger, it was as much 
as the poor things could do to stagger through 
the sage-brush to get their morning and even- 
ing drink. 

One morning they were gone. He searched 
all day and found no trace of them ; but when, 
at night, he returned to his cabin, footsore and 
wear)', the horses were there before him, waiting 
at the rails of the corral. He drove them to 
the river, as usual, and they trotted lightly along, 
but they would not drink. Next morning again 
they were missing, and again he walked the 
sage-brush all day without finding them, and 
again they were at home before him. 

They were as fresh, when he rode them to 
water, as if they had fed all day in meadows up 




to their knees in grass, and when they came to 
the river, they gazed about them at the land- 
scape and scorned to drink. 

This strange thing happened day after day, 
and the lean, staggering old horses began to 
look sleek and fat; but where they fed or where 
they drank the settler could not imagine, for he 
knew that country, in all its drought and bar- 
renness, for miles and days of travel. 

One morning he rose still earlier and followed 
the horses, but they seemed to resent his spying, 
and they led him a long chase through the sage, 
that took them nowhere; so he concluded to 
hire a spy who was not known to these clever 
truants. He promised money to a little lad, who 
lived in the nearest cabin, which was far on a 
lonesome trail toward the hills, if he would 
track the horses to the place where they secretly 
fed and drank. 

The horses, suspecting nothing, trotted past 
the cabin where the boy was watching for them. 
He slipped out amongst the sage, and as he 
could run like a quail he managed to keep 
them in sight. The horses seemed in no doubt 
where they were going, and he traveled on their 
track for miles. The sage grew bigger and 
wilder, and more like trees of a dwarfish forest. 
The land rose to a bench, or mesa, with a front 
of steep black rocks. The horses went up into 
a place of shadow where the rocks appeared to 
open, and passed out of sight. The boy went 
up the same way, and found that the rocks 
retired in a circle which nearly closed about a 
cup-shaped valley ; and in the midst was a pool 
of water, and all around were grass and trees. 
The horses were drinking at the pool, and when 
they had done they lay down and rolled on the 
rich, dark turf, and then they fell to eating. 
They took no notice of the boy. He explored 
the little valley, with its walls of rock, and dis- 
covered the source of the water. It gushed, 
like a fountain, out of a cave's mouth close to 
the ground, and the noise of its singing and 
gushing filled the echoing hollow with a sound 
as of spring in the hill-countries. The pool 
was very deep. The boy could not hear a 
stone touch bottom, though he threw many in 
to try the depth by the sound. 

The poor settler made the boy his partner, in 
all profit that might come of his discovery ; and 
Vol. XXL— 88. 

they kept it a secret between them. The set- 
tler sold his horses, that were now become sleek 
and handsome, in' the town for carriage horses, 
and bought others as poor as those had been, 
for a few dollars the head ; and when these had 
fed and drank at the pool by the cave, they, 
too, became fresh and handsome, and were sold 
at five times their cost. And the man and the 
boy became rich, and many poor half-starved 
horses were made happy, besides, and sold to 
kind masters who could afford to care for them 
and feed them in the winter — not send them 
forth to starve upon the range. 

Mrs. Croly asked Hetty to tell this story to 
her father that evening on the veranda ; but 
the second time she did not tell it so well, for 
now she had grown-up listeners, and was em- 
barrassed by their attention to her words. 

When her father and mother looked at each 
other and smiled, she thought they were laugh- 
ing at her, and the story no longer seemed true, 
as it had, when it first came to her that morning 
between sleeping and waking. 

" So Natty knows of a cave where there is 
water, does he ? " her father questioned, when 
the tale was finished. 

" No, Father. He only knows of a cave 
where there is a sound like water." 

" Where is it, did he say ? " 

" It is n't far from here. If Mother would 
only let me," — Hetty cast upon her mother a 
hopeless glance of entreaty, — "Natty says I 
could ride there behind him easy, and back, in 
one afternoon. He used to walk there when 
his father's teams were working on the ditch." 

" Natty shall take us both there," said Mr. 
Croly. " I 'd like to hear that sound myself." 

And so it was arranged : and next morning 
they started to find the cave — Hester on the 
seat of the buckboard beside her father; Natty 
on a box behind, giving directions as to the 
way. The lunch-basket was stowed under 
the seat out of the sun ; also a jug of water, 
wrapped in wet sacking, to keep it cool : for, as 
Mr. Croly observed, listening to water was not 
the same as tasting it, and Natty owned that 
the sounds in the cave were most tantalizing. 

The way was like the country of Hester's 
story, which she had borrowed from Natty's 
descriptions. The land rose in long benches 




toward the horizon, and the sage grew ever 
bigger and wilder. The sun climbed higher 
and hotter in the cloudless sky. The low, flat 
crest of the mesa looked blue and hazy in the 
distance. " Keep to the west," Natty was al- 
ways saying. 

As Hetty gazed, the blue line seemed to wa- 
ver, to rise and sink ; the light quivered ; some- 
times she fancied she saw the rocks, and then 
her eyelids fell and she saw only dark spots 
shifting on a glowing field. Her father's arm 
went round her, and she slept. 

When she woke the wagon had stopped and 
her father was lifting her to the ground. It was 
all precisely like the story she had partly heard 
and partly made. The black rocks rose before 
her; at their feet a tumbled mass of broken 
stone, as when part of a wall falls down. 
Through this rift a pass went up into the cup- 
shaped hollow ; but all was hot and bare. There 
was no pool, no grass, no peace and refresh- 
ment for man and beast. And Hetty could 
have cried to see her dream so nearly true and 
yet so far from it. No poor starved horses need 
come there to feed and drink. 

" I don't believe there is any cave ! " she 
exclaimed pettishly. 

It was decided to eat luncheon before explor- 
ing further. The sun beat full upon the face of 
the perpendicular rocks ; in the little breezeless 
hollow the air was hot and dead as the air of an 

They were forced to content themselves with 
the shadow of the wagon, and here they sat 
them down, in the dust, and ate and drank; 
and Hetty's faith revived with the taste of the 
good home food, and Natty's appetite was 
something to remember. 

" We '11 save the rest of Mother's biscuits to 
eat on the way home," Mr. Croly advised : 
but when he looked for the rest of the biscuits, 
none were left. Natty had finished a pile of 
them that would have filled a horse's nose-bag. 
He was happier, with those white flaky morsels 
descending into that place of chronic emptiness, 
his stomach, than rivers of water with sands 
of gold could have made him. 

But Mr. Croly was thinking of his acres of 
thirsty land ; of his homesick wife and those 
tender " hostages," his two little daughters. He 

would have been ashamed to confess how, like 
a dreaming boy, his mind ran upon that sound 
of water in Natty's cave. 

It was not much of a cave to look at; only a 
hole big enough to creep into, leading to a tun- 
nel that ran along, close to the ground, at the 
base of those basalt bluffs, where they rested 
upon the granite. It was at the back of the 
little cup-shaped valley, beneath the half circle 
of rocks encompassing it. They crept into it 
and along the tunnel, one by one. A strong, 
cool draft of air met them, and at first they 
thought the sound they heard was only wind. 
The tunnel roared like an old-fashioned chim- 
ney in an autumn gale. But there were two 
sounds — one, the far-away rushing and roaring, 
and a nearer one that made their hearts thrill. 

A sound of living water, imprisoned in some 
dark passage of the rocks — falling, falling de- 
liriously, like rain of a summer night dropping 
into cisterns far underground, that echo with 
the sound. 

" Oh, Father, Father, it is there ! " Hetty 
cried ; and she began to laugh hysterically. 

" It is there ! " Mr. Croly repeated. " If 
that is n't water, I '11 eat my hat ! " 

Natty's peaked face wore a smile that was 
ghastly in the faint, green, cavernous light. 

" Did n't I tell ye ? " he exulted, though as a 
fact he had never claimed more than the sound, 
and had thought little of that ; but seeing the 
effect of his discovery, and the importance it 
seemed to have for his new friends, he became 
as excited as they. 

Hetty laughed, and listened, and laughed 
again, scarcely knowing why the sound should 
fill her with such joy. 

" Hark ! " her father commanded ; and he 
began a series of tappings and knockings on 
the walls of the tunnel. 

"Children," — there was a sharp business 
ring in his voice, — " I want you to get out of 
this place; it looks to me like a place for 
snakes — rattlers. Natty, you take Hetty out; 
and be careful how you go poking about those 
rocks under the bluff." 

To Hetty's disappointment she saw but little 
of the cave. That day her father finished his 
explorations by himself. But she was allowed 
to creep in for one more " Hark ! " before they 

i8 94 .: 



left — just to make sure that the wonderful 
sound was true. 

She chatted and laughed all the way home, 
and Natty seemed uncommonly wide awake, 
and his head kept popping up over the back 
of the seat from behind; but her father said 
scarcely a word, and drove as one in a dream. 

That night the parents talked late in their 
room, and next morning Hetty found her mo- 
ther putting up another picnic luncheon. 

" Who is that for ? " she asked. 

" Father is going to take a ride, and he may 
not be back to dinner." 

" Oh, may I — " 

" No, dear; you may not. I can answer for 
that myself," said Mrs. Croly. So Hetty knew 
it was no use talking to Father. 

But she hung about the wagon asking ques- 
tions while he was harnessing up. 

" What did he want the ropes for, and the 
candles, and the pick, and crowbar ? And 
what was that tallowy stuff in the box ? " 

It was giant powder, she was told ; her father 
adding, with his teasing smile, intended to baf- 
fle idle questions, that he and Natty were going 
" prospecting." 

Hetty felt mo're disappointed than ever, and 
injured, too, that her father should take Natty 
Gess, and leave her behind — without even tell- 
ing her where they were going. 

It was after tea-time, and the sun was sink- 
ing, a great copper-red ball, on the verge of the 
plain, when they saw the wagon returning. They 
saw only the dust, but they knew it was the wagon. 
And then Mrs. Croly behaved in a manner 
which her little daughter could not understand. 

Instead of going out to meet her husband, 
when his step was heard on the board-walk, she 
turned away and went into the next room, and 
only Hetty was left to greet him. 

He was smiling, and did not seem in the least 
put out. 

"Where is Mother? Mother, come here ! " 
he called. In his hand he carried the jug he 
had taken in the morning, filled with water 
from the well ; it still seemed heavy. 

" Bring me a tumbler, Hetty," he said. 

Mrs. Croly sat down, looking pale, and watched 
him while he filled the glass to the brim. 

" Drink that, Mother," he said. " That ought 

to make you feel strong. It is worth its weight 
in gold to us — that tumblerful of water." 

" Don't try any of your jokes on me, Father. I 
don't feel as if I could bear it," said Mrs. Croly. 

" I mean what I say. That is living water. 
It is water that will give life. He that made 
' rivers in the desert,' hid it in the rocks ; and a 
boy as ignorant as a wild ass's colt discovered 
it ; and, please God, I will make a way for it to 

"And I grudged them — our neighbors — a 
little water from our well ! " said Mrs. Croly, 
humbly ; and the tears stood in her eyes. 

" You did n't do any such thing ! " Mr. Croly 
promptly contradicted. " You are one of them 
that say : ' I can't go,' but go, all the same, and 
twice as far as the ready promisers. Come, 
Mother, you shall not mix any tears with that 
water. With that jugful I expect to christen 
our claim. And if I can wake up these sage- 
brushers, and get 'em to chip in and help me 
build a ditch, we can water twenty farms with 
that water just as well as one; and own the 
ditch besides." 

And the thing was done. The farmers woke 
up at the word water / Not in the river, far 
away, with costly dams and gates and waste- 
weirs to build, but water in the hills above 
them, ready to steal down in rivulets, once a 
way was made, and bless their naked lands. So 
the settlers built the " Settlers' Ditch." And 
long before the company had made up its big, 
various, expensive mind what to do next, and 
whether the land was worth saving, it was 
saved — that much of it, at least. 

The sage-brush disappeared; the grass and 
clover spread. Little Martha waded in the 
ditches, and laughed and grew tall, if not fat, 
and the dark hollows faded from under her 
sweet blue eyes. 

They were in a grass country, and the mo- 
ther's heart was satisfied. They were in a 
country they had made themselves, — with the 
help of God's good gift, — and the father's pride 
was satisfied. 

And when at last the company's big ditch 
went through, it could afford to spare, from 
its rent-rolls, those few men on the " Settlers' 
Ditch " who had saved their own land through 
the faith that was in them. 


By Katharine Pyle. 

I dreamed I lay in a little gray boat ; 

The sail above was gray ; 
Out, out to the sea from the dreamland shore 

I was drifting and drifting away. 

The dreamland shore was growing dim, 
Though I strained my eyes to see ; 

And the dream-child, too, was fading away 
Who had played all night with me. 

The dream-child waved a shadowy hand, 

And wept to see me go. 
: Farewell, farewell," I heard a cry, 
" You are going to wake, I know." 

And then I saw the shore no more — 
There were only the wind and me, 

And the little gray boat, and the lonely sky , 
And the soundless dreamland sea. 

My boat ran up on a smooth white beach, 

And faded away like smoke, 
And the beach was my own little nursery bed, 
And I opened my eyes and woke. 

So often now when I 'm going to sleep, 

I wish I could find once more, 
The place where the little gray boat is moored 

And the dream-child plays on the shore. 

But in dreamland none can choose his way, 

Or find his friends again; 
And the little dream-child by the dreamland sea 

Will wait for me in vain. 


By Duncan Campbell Scott. 

A robin in the morning, 

In the morning early, 

Sang a song of warning — 
' There '11 be rain ! There '11 be rain ! " 

Very, very clearly 

From the orchard 

Came the gentle horning, 
'There '11 be rain!" 

But the hasty farmer 

Cut his hay down — 

Did not heed the charmer 

From the orchard — 

And the mower's clatter 

Ceased at noontide, 

For with drip and spatter 

Down came the rain. 

Then the prophet robin, 
Hidden in the crab-tree, 

Railed upon the farmer : 
" / told you so ! J told you so ! " 
As the rain grew stronger, 
And his heart grew prouder, 
Notes so full and slow 
Coming blither, louder — 
" 7" told you so .' I told you so / 
_/" told you so/" 



By Mary Shears Roberts. 

BOUT the time that little Richard 
Gibson was teaching the English 
princesses to draw, Nikita Moiseie- 
vitch Zotof, the " Muscovite court fool and 
dwarf," was appointed tutor to his Russian 
Majesty, the young Czar, Peter the Great. 

Zotof is said to have enjoyed a great reputa- 
tion for learning and goodness, according to the 
Russian standard of that time. As late as the 
year 1682, when Louis XIV. and Charles II. 
were holding their brilliant courts, and the 
good William Penn was making treaties with 
the Indians of America, Russia was so far be- 
hind the other European nations that even a 
royal prince seldom learned anything more 
than a little reading, writing, and arithmetic, 
with perhaps a smattering of geography and 

There were then no great writers or artists 
among the Russians, but court jesters and 
dwarfs were highly esteemed. Learning did 
not count for much, except among the clergy; 
but the great empire, we are told, was remark- 
able for her " Fools " of high degree, for even 
princes were proud to hold the office. 

As for dwarfs, the country was really alive 
with them. One old author says there was 
scarcely a nobleman in the land who did not 
possess one or more of these " frisks " of na- 
ture. At almost all State dinners, if these 
pygmies were fortunate enough to escape be- 
ing served in a pie, it was their duty to stand 
behind their lord's chair holding his snuff-box 
or awaiting his command. They were usually 
gaily dressed in a uniform or livery of very 
costly materials. 

In 1708 Prince Menshikof sent to his wife 
in Russia two dwarfs whom he had made 
prisoners-of-war in Poland. Accompanying the 

gift were the following lines : " I send you 
a present of two girls, one of whom is very 
small and can serve as a parrot. She is more 
talkative than is usual among such little people, 
and can make you much gayer than if she was 
a real parrot." 

One of these dwarfs was still living in 1794. 
After the disgrace of her noble master, she 
came under the care of the Princess of Hesse- 
Homburg, and when she died, General Betskoy, 
the Princess's heir, took the dwarf as part of 
his inheritance. Nearly a century old, she was 
still brisk and lively, with a babyish voice 
when she cried, as she often did, at the recol- 
lection of her ancient court-dress, which she 
had prized exceedingly. Except when looking 
at her face to face, one would think her to be 
a child five or six years old. 

The Russian dwarfs were very tiny, but they 
were usually well shaped, having particularly 
graceful hands and feet. Zotof, however, was 
an exception to the general rule : he was not 
beautiful. On the contrary, he was extremely 
ugly ; but the small man was quite able to 
entertain and amuse his royal master, became 
his life-long friend as well as his favorite 
buffoon, and was frequently called upon to 
hold responsible offices as well as to fill ridic- 
ulous positions. 

According to the custom of the age and 
country, when Peter, the prince (afterward " Pe- 
ter the Great"), was born, there was appointed 
for his service, besides the usual nurse and 
governess, a special set of dwarfs to wait 
upon and amuse him. No wonder he was 
fond of the pygmy tribe ! He had been used 
to them from his earliest infancy, and he al- 
ways took delight and pleasure in having large 
numbers of them about him. 




When Peter was three years old, one of the 
Russian noblemen gave him an elegant little 
carriage made in another country for his small 
mightiness. It was drawn by four ponies, 
driven and guided by the dwarfs of the court. 
One of his first public outings after his christ- 
ening was in a grand court procession. First 
there rolled from the palace gate the car- 
riage of the Czar, followed by that of the 
Czarina. " In front went the chamberlains 
with two hundred runners, after which twelve 
snow-white horses drew the Czarina's carriage. 
Then followed Peter's wee coach, all glittering 
with gold and drawn by four miniature ponies. 
At the side of it rode four dwarfs on ponies 
and another one behind." 

In his infancy Peter was cradled in the lap 
of luxury. Nothing was too fine for the sturdy, 
handsome lad. He slept between silken sheets 
on eider-down pillows, his clothes were em- 
broidered with gold and precious stones, and 
he had wonderful toys of all kinds. When 
older he learned to despise the soft bed and 
fine raiment, but grew fonder of his pikes, 
spears, and military playthings than he ever was 
of his books, and in his boyhood he was con- 
tinually "playing soldier." Once, after a seri- 
ous riot of the body called the " Streltsi," or 
native militia, some scenes of which he wit- 
nessed, he demanded flags and drums and 
arms. These the authorities allowed him to 
have, and on his eleventh birthday he was per- 
mitted to fire his first salute with real guns. 

In the mean time, Zotof was trying to teach 
the royal boy to read and write. The tutor 
had a hard time of it, for Peter did not like to 
study ; but, by means of picture-books specially 
written and colored for his use, Zotof managed 
to give his pupil some knowledge of history, 
and taught him to sing. Peter often liked to 
show off his singing when, after he was grown 
up, he went about in disguise. 

As a teacher, Zotof falls far behind the 
English dwarf-teacher Gibson; for Peter, do- 
ing as he liked, spent more time hammer- 
ing at the blacksmith's forge than he did in 
wielding the pen, and so when he was fifteen 
years old, he wrote very badly, and knew no- 
thing about arithmetic, although it is said that 
he had mastered fourteen trades. About this 

time he became interested in ship-building. 
His ignorance of figuring, however, proved 
such a drawback to his success that he began 
to see the folly of neglecting to study. He 
accordingly set to work with a will to learn 
not only arithmetic, but geometry, navigation, 
and fortification ; and it was not long before the 
pupil had outstripped the teacher in height, in 
intellect, and in learning. 

For a time the Czar of all the Russias was 
taken up with building boats and forming regi- 
ments, and he visited many countries. Zotof ac- 
companied him in his travels, and there were 
usually three or four other dwarfs in his retinue. 

It was during the boyhood of Louis XV. 
that Peter paid his celebrated visit to France. 
The Russian Prince was accompanied by sev- 
eral royal dukes, by his ambassador and nu- 
merous nobles ; but known above them all 
was his favorite Zotof, who produced a greater 
effect on the French courtiers than did his 
strange and wilful master. Peter's manners 
were quite bad enough, but, judged by the 
ideas of the Parisians, Zotof's were much worse. 
There were no longer official jesters at the 
Court of France, and Zotof seems to have 
been a wonderful novelty to the great Cardinal 
Dubois, for in his memoirs he speaks with sur- 
prise of the duties and privileges of the Rus- 
sian Fool. His jokes were not understood by 
the French people, for Zotof, in spite of his 
alleged learning, could speak only his native 
Russian. His looks were not at all attractive. 
The Cardinal described him at that time as 
" an aged dwarf with long white hair flowing 
over his shoulders, and having a voice that re- 
sembled the hoarse croaking of frogs." 

The Russians, however, admired his wit, 
and Dubois remarks that Peter, who could sit 
through the finest French comedies without 
smiling, could never hear a jesting remark from 
Z6tof without growing weak from mere excess 
of laughter. 

Years before this visit, Peter, who was ex- 
ceedingly fond of doing all sorts of ridiculous 
things quite out of place in a high and 
mighty Czar, had caused one of his favorites, 
Ramodanofsky, to be created mock-Czar, while 
Zotof was made mock-Patriarch, with a proper 
suite of pretended officials as attendants; 




but instead of carrying a cross, as the real 
patriarch would have done, Zotof wore the 
figure of a gibbet on his breast. 

After one of his trips abroad, Peter appeared 
at Moscow in a German dress and hat, to the 
no small discontent of the people, who hated 
everything foreign. Peter informed them that 
the Russian costume was ridiculous, inconven- 
ient, and absurd, and ordered a complete 
change. The people grumbled and growled, 
but Peter apparently paid no attention to 
their murmurings, and 
as by that time he 
considered the Eng- 
lish fashions prefer- 
able, he made the 
people alter their gar- 
ments to conformity 
with the British mode. 
As soon as the public 
had become some- 
what accustomed to 
the new order of things, 
Zotof, Ramodanofsky, 
and the Czar put their 
heads together to de- 
vise some means of 
proving how much 
more convenient and 
comfortable their new 
dress was. 

Accordingly , in 1 7 o 1 , 
it was arranged that 
Shansky, one of the 
royal jesters, should 
be married to a very 
pretty girl in the Cathe- 
dral at Moscow, and 
that all persons invited 
to the wedding should 
provide themselves 

scribed. Their horses were ornamented in 
the ancient manner. Most of their bridle-reins 
were nothing more or less than solid silver 
chains, composed of links two inches broad, 
and the breastplates and cruppers were made 
of square pieces of silver which struck against 
one another with every motion of the animal, 
jingling like so many sleigh-bells. People not 
rich enough to afford silver decorated their 
steeds with tin. 

The women came dressed in the old Rus- 



with the same habit as that worn in Russia two 
hundred years before, and that the ceremony 
should be performed after the same manner as 
at that time. Zdtof, as mock-Patriarch, was in 
as great glee over this masquerade as was 
Peter himself; and truly it was a ridiculous pro- 
cession that wended its way to the cathedral. 
The nobles wore on their heads long caps, a 
foot higher than the fashion of the day pre- 

sian fashion, with sleeves several yards long, 
and the heels of their slippers five inches high. 
They rode in wagons without any springs; lad- 
ders were fastened to the sides, to be used in 
climbing into the high carts, which were hooped 
over and covered with red cloth at the end 
where the women sat. 

Peter himself joined the procession as one of 
the nobles, riding on a silver-trimmed horse, 




but the mock-Czar and mock-Patriarch Zotof 
presided over the feast. 

Several tables were spread in a large hall, 
and at the upper end one was placed higher 
than the others. At this sat the mock-Czar 
and mock-Patriarch, to whom the company 
advanced by gradual, steps, and bowed their 
heads to the'' ground as they came forward. 
And then each one kissed first the mock- 
Czar's hand, and then that of the mock- 
Patriarch. Afterward some refreshment was 
presented to each man by both Ramodanofsky 
and Zotof. When all the company had re- 
ceived their gifts, they retired from the throne 
about twenty feet, making low bows as they 
went backward to their own places, where- 
upon a splendid entertainment was set forth 
for them in the old-fashioned way. 

In 1 7 10, Zotof and his royal master arranged 
another wedding between two dwarfs. This 
was celebrated at St. Petersburg with great 
show and parade. Zotof, as a high official, 
was head and front of the performance. It 
took a long time to prepare for this great event. 
Invitations to the wedding were sent out sev- 
eral months before the day appointed for the 
ceremony, and all the courtiers and ambassa- 
dors were bidden to the marriage of this tiny 
man and woman. All the dwarfs living within 
two hundred miles of the capitol were com- 
manded to be present. The bride and groom 
rode on an elephant under a canopy ; some of 
the midgets followed on camels, or rode in 
sledges carved in the shape of various animals. 
Many of these vehicles contained a dozen 
dwarfs at a time. Some of these small people 
did not like the idea of being bidden or com- 
manded in this way. Of course the procession 
of dwarfs was followed to the city by a laughing 
mob, and the pygmies objected to being made 
sport of; but Peter's word was law, and he 
punished the disobedient ones by making them 
wait at the banquet on those who were docile. 

Seventy dwarfs sat down to table, besides 
the tiny bride and bridegroom, who were richly 
adorned in the height of the prevailing Russian 
mode. Zotof took care that everything pro- 
vided for this marriage should be of suitable 
size. A low table was set with small dishes, 
glasses, plates, and other articles, all arranged 

according to the size of the guests. The dwarfs, 
we are told, contended with much pride and 
gravity as to which should be first, but it was. 
finally settled that the smallest should take the 
lead ; and then there arose disputes, as none of 
them would admit he was smaller than the 
others. The Czar, who was present, finally 
interfered, order was restored, and the banquet 
proceeded. Dancing followed. The bride- 
groom, who was thirty-eight inches high, 
opened the ball with a minuet. The company 
soon followed the example of the groom, and 
entered into the dancing with great spirit, and,, 
after all their trouble, became very gay and had 
a good time generally. 

As has been before remarked, Peter was very 
fond of the pygmy tribe, and at the funeral of 
one who had long been attached to his court, 
twenty-four male and twenty-four female dwarfs 
walked in procession, followed by the Emperor 
in person and his ministers and guards. I never 
heard of his being cruel to a dwarf, although he 
frequently made sport of them, and his love for 
practical joking was so great that even Zotof 
did not always escape. 

About the time of the marriage of the dwarfs, 
the Czar, in a fit of after-dinner jollity, had 
conferred the title of Count upon his former 
teacher. Besides, little Zotof received a salary 
of about two thousand dollars, a considerable 
sum for those days, and he had taken pos- 
session with much ceremony of a fine house in 
the -Tatar quarter of St. Petersburg. 

Now it happened that Zotof, feeling himself 
growing old, proposed one evening, when the 
Czar was in an especially good humor, to retire 
to a monastery. Instead of agreeing, Peter, 
to the great astonishment of the old and infirm 
dwarf, forbade his thinking of such a thing, and 
ordered him to marry again. 

Zotof was much put out, but Peter's passion 
for shows was not one whit less. He chose 
as wife for his favorite buffoon an old lady, a 
widow of a man named Stremonkof. Prepara- 
tions were begun in the autumn of 17 12, and 
in the fantastic procession the Empress Cath- 
erine and the Czar's daughters, Martha and 
Prascovia, and even some of the ambassadors 
were obliged to take part. 

Four stammering old men gave out the 

i8 9 4.; 



invitations ; infirm and tottering creatures were 
appointed to conduct the bride, and four of the 
fattest men in Russia served as runners. The 
musicians were 
seated in a car 
led by bears, 
and as these 
novel steeds 
were always 
being pricked 
by the points 
of the steel 
lances, their 
low growlings 
served as fit- 
ting accom- 
paniment to 
the weird airs 
that arose from 
the chariot. 
The service at 
the cathedral 
was performed 
by a very old 
priest, who was 
half blind and deaf, and who wore spectacles. 
The procession, the ceremony, the nuptial-feast, 
and the jingling of the wedding-bells were all 
of a piece in this strange diversion. 

Zotof's descendants were forbidden to bear 
the title of Count so strangely acquired, until 
1802, when a member of an illustrious and 


princely family with which one of them had 
intermarried, obtained permission from the 
Emperor Alexander I. to bear the title con- 
ferred upon the dwarf, his ancestor. 


By Julie M. Lippmann. 

When skies are blue 
And threaded through 
With skeins of sunlight spangles, 
And breezes blow 
Quite soft and low 
Amid the tree-top tangles : 
When summer has the world in thrall, 
And joy is sovereign over all, 
'T is curious that a little bird 
Should utter such a wistful word 

As " Poor me ! Poor me ! " 
Vol. XXL— 89. 

When days are long, 
And limbs are strong, 
And blithe with youth the season : 
When everything 
Is tuned to spring 
And rhyme, and not to reason ; 
When life is all a holiday 
With naught of care and much of play, 
'T is sinful that a little maid 
Should such complaining words have said 
As "Poor me! Poor me!" 


(.-J Japanese Wonder Story.) 

By Lieutenant H. P. McIntosh, U. S. N. 

ERY far away, in far 
Japan, near one of the 
quaintest of its quaint 
little villages, there 
lived a funny little 
man — a poor stone- 
cutter whose name was 
Fujinoko. Every day 
he worked hard to 
earn money enough 
to supply the wants of his family, and he not 
only managed to do this, but sometimes he 
saved a little something over. On certain days 
he would row out in a funny little boat to a 
great rock that la)' in the sea not very far from 
shore, and there he would hammer and chisel 
and pry until he had broken off several large 
pieces of stone. These he would carry away to 
be fashioned into monuments which he sold to 
those who wished to do honor to their departed 

Now, I grieve to say that Fujinoko was a 
very discontented little man. He was always 
grumbling because he had so little and some 
others had so much, and because he was poor 
and of no consequence while some others 
were rich and great and noble. His 
grumbling made him quite a burden 
to his friends and acquaintances. 
However, one good trait in the 
little man's character was 
that no matter how much 
he grumbled, he did not 
neglect his work; which 
cannot always be said of 
the grumblers of our own 

money to supply the simple wants of his family,, 
and often he had enough to treat them to a 
picnic on the water, or a visit to the theater. 
So you see there was really no reason for all 
his grumbling. 

One very hot clay he had gone to the rock 
in his little boat, taking his dinner with him. 
He expected to spend the entire day in get- 
ting a fresh supply of stone. 

He worked away until it was nearly noon, 
and then he stopped and sat down within the 
shadow of the rock to rest and eat his dinner. 

He was very hot and dusty and tired, and of 
course he was in a grumbling mood as usual. 

While he was nibbling away at his boiled 
rice and his bit of fish, a large boat, propelled 
by half a dozen oarsmen, and with a great um- 
brella spread over the 
stern, shot swiftly 
by. Under 
the shade 
sat the 
owner of 
the boat, 
a rich 

No ; he earned 





merchant from the neighboring city ; and near 
him sat his servants, one of whom was fan- 
ning him while another was supplying him with 

<; There, now," said Fujinoko, " look at that ! 
Why is that man so much richer and greater 
than I ? I work harder, and yet I have nothing 
while he has everything. He has no right to 
pass so easy a life while I have to work so hard." 

This and more to the same effect, until the 
little man had worried himself into an exceed- 

think, and I fear I have disturbed him; but 
this is the hour at which he commanded that 
his tea should be served." 

It began to dawn upon the mind of the little 
man that his great wish was realized, and he 
collected himself with an effort ; for he thought, 
shrewd little man that he was, that it would 
never do for him to appear surprised, or to 
show that he was unaccustomed to such things. 
So he took the cup with a lordly air, tasted the 
tea, found fault with its flavor, and finally drank 

ingly unpleasant state of mind. With bowed it slowly ; then, replacing the cup upon the 

head he sat brooding over his lamentable 

" I cannot endure," he said, " that anybody 
or anything should be richer, better, or more 
powerful than I. It is unbearable ! I want 
to be better than all. Ouf ! How hot it is and 
how tired I am ! I wish I did not have to 
work so hard. I wish that great fat blue- 
bottle fly would stop his buzzing; he 
makes me dizzy. I wish I was that 
man in the boat ! I w-i-i-sh I 
was — " 

" Will not the Honorable 
Master deign to take 
his tea ? " said a 
voice near him. 

The little 
man raised 

tray, he relapsed into quiet enjoyment. 

" At last," he said, " my great desire is grati- 
fied. At last I have reached a station in which I 

am satisfied. Sure- 
ly, people who 
have dared 
to blame 



his head, rubbed his eyes, and looked about 
him with astonishment. 

The great rock and his little boat had disap- 
peared. His dusty and ragged clothing was 
also gone, and he was dressed in the finest and 
richest of robes. He was sitting under a silken 
shade, in the stern of a large boat ; half a 
dozen boatmen were laboring at the oars, and 
the boat was skimming rapidly over the water; 
before him knelt a man holding a small tray on 
which was a cup of fragrant tea. 

Poor little Fujinoko looked so astonished and 
perplexed that the servant said : 

" The Honorable Master has been dozing, I 

will have no more 
reason to complain of my 

While he was thus communing 
with himself, the boat drew near 
to a great city, and soon the boat- 
men skilfully brought her along- 
side of some stone landing-steps, 
where they held her steady with 
their long bamboo boat-hooks. 

As the servants bustled about, gathering up 
their master's belongings, a man descended the 
steps, bowing profoundly, to announce that the 
Honorable Master's litter was ready according 
to his directions. Fujinoko seated himself in 
the litter; the bearers raised it, and, attended 
by all his retinue, he was borne away. 

They had not proceeded far, however, when 
a great commotion arose and two armed men 
came striding along the street crying : 

" Way for the Prince ! Room for the Lord 
of Choshi ! Move aside there, you merchant, 
or you will get hurt ! " 




So Fujinoko and his party were hustled to 
one side of the street, to await the passing of 
the great man and his retainers. 


Immediately the little man's grumbling fit 
came on again in spite of all that he had said 
and thought to the contrary. 

" This is too bad ! " he said to himself. " This 
is really outrageous ! Here is a man who is 
more powerful than I, and before whom I must 
bow. How provoking ! Dear, dear ! I cannot 
put up with this. But how shall I remedy the 
matter ? Alas, I know not ! I wish / was the 
Prince of Choshi ! " and bowing his head he 
gave way to gloomy thoughts. 

When he looked up again, they had left the 
city behind them and were traversing the open 
country. It seemed to him that his retinue had 
grown larger ; there were now many men about 
his litter, and the greater part of them were 
clad in armor and bore swords and spears. 
Soon they began to cry : 

" Way for the Prince ! " 

Then joy filled his heart, for he understood 
that again his wish had been granted. Loung- 
ing back in his litter, he prepared to enjoy his 
high estate. 

Hardly had he settled himself comfortably, 
when he was disturbed bv a noise as of a great 

trampling of horses, and at once his bearers and 
all his retainers hurried to the side of the road 
and stopped as if waiting for something. 

" What is it ? " asked Fujinoko impatiently. 
" Why are we stopping here ? " 

The man-at-arms whose post was beside the 
litter replied : 

" My lord, the banner of the Em- 
peror is approaching ; his Sacred 
Majesty rides forth to hunt, and 
is even now about to pass 
by. Woe to us if we give 
not way to the Emperor ! " 
"How aggravating!" said 
Fujinoko angrily. " Must I be eter- 
nally meeting some one to whom I 
must give way ? " At this moment 
the Emperor, attended by his 
noblemen and surrounded 
by his guards, rode by. 
The new-made Prince of 
Choshi bowed profoundly to 
his sovereign, but all the while envy 
filled his heart, and he muttered to himself: 
" Here, at last, is a man than whom there is 
none greater ! Ah, if I could be that man ! " 

Whish ! In a twinkling the litter, its bearers, 
and all his retainers disappeared, and he found 
himself seated upon a magnificent horse, ar- 
rayed in imperial robes, and surrounded by the 
richly dressed throng of courtiers and soldiers, 
all decorated with the imperial insignia. 
The heart of Fujinoko gave a great bound. 
" At last," said he to himself, " here I am at 
the top of the ladder! There is now no one 





who is greater than I ! " And as he rode along, 
his heart rejoiced within him, and he lifted his 
head proudly, and frowned magnificently. 

Soon the cavalcade arrived at the hunting- 
grounds, and made preparations for the hunt ; 
but before all was ready, the sun shone out so 
fiercely that the Emperor and all his train, una- 
ble to endure the heat, took shelter in a neigh- 
boring temple, and the hunt was postponed. 

Very angry indeed was Fujinoko. " So ! " he 
exclaimed, " the Emperor is not the strongest 
after all, since he is conquered and put to flight 
by the sun ! Oh, ye mighty gods, I must be 
stronger than all.' Let me be the Sun!" 

At once he felt himself rising from the earth, 
and swelling out, growing larger and larger, 
rounder and rounder, as he rose higher and 
higher, and beginning to shine also with a 
golden luster. Still up and up he went, grow- 
ing all the time, until at last he shone re- 
splendent in the highest heaven. Fujinoko 
had become the Sun. 

" Now," thought he, " I '11 show them some- 
thing." Immediately he endeavored to shine 
his brightest and hottest ; and all the travelers, 
and all the poor laborers — all the men and 
women and children, in fact — fled to their 
houses, unable to endure the intolerable heat. 
Fujinoko laughed loudly and only burned 
the more fiercely. The trees and the 
grass withered and died ; the stand- 
ing water in the rice-fields and 
in the streams dried up, and many 
of the poor cattle died ; but 
Fujinoko exulted and said : " Ha, 
ha ! now I am the strongest ! " 

Far away on the horizon, there 
arose a dark cloud, and it came rolling up and 
up and spread itself out between the burning 
sun and the poor parched earth. Then all the 
men and women and children came out for a 
breath of air ; all the poor cattle sighed a great 
sigh of relief, and every heart was lifted in grati- 
tude to the gods for the great dark cloud. 

Hot with anger was Fujinoko, and he ex- 
erted his power upon the cloud ; but without 
effect. He burned his very hottest, but the 
cloud still defied him. At last he pettishly 
exclaimed, "Ho! it must be admitted I am 
not yet the strongest, since I cannot drive 

away the cloud. I will no longer be the Sun — 
I wish to be the cloud ! " 

No sooner were the words spoken than he 
felt himself descending rapidly — so rapidly that 
it almost took his breath away. At the same 
time he began to spread out, growing thinner 
and darker as he descended, until at last he 

was float- 
ing much 
jv nearer to the 

earth than be- 
fore, and, in short, 
he found himself 
turned into a 
great dark 


1 - . . 





at once to 
exercise his 
new power, and, 
growing still darker, 
the cloud began to send 
showers of rain fiercely 
upon the earth. 
Again the poor people were 
obliged to run for shelter, and 
the cattle were greatly frightened. 
Harder and harder the torrent 
poured down, until the streams 
were overflowed and all the fields were flooded ; 
harder still, until houses and trees were washed 
away, and many were drowned. But Fujinoko 
only laughed. 

" Ho, ho! now indeed I am the strongest!" 
he cried; and he sailed away, bearing flood and 
disaster with him wherever he went. 

At length he espied a great rock lying out in 
the sea. " Now," he cried, " I am going to 
wash you clear away ; so look out, my friend ! " 
Then the rain began to beat upon the rock. 
But Fujinoko found very soon that he had 
undertaken a very difficult thing ; not only was 



he unable to wash the rock away, but he failed 
to make even the slightest impression upon it. 
AVhereupon he grew angry and tried to rain 
harder ; and the harder he tried the angrier he 
got; but it seemed to make no difference to the 
rock whether it rained or not. 

At last Fujinoko gave up in despair, crying: 
" I shall wear myself clear away striving with 
this great hulk of a rock! He is stronger than 
I. Oh, that I might be the rock !" 

Falling again ? Yes, so he was, and becom- 
ing smaller and harder ; finally a plunge, and 
a great splash ! There in the sea stood Fuji- 
noko changed into a giant rock. 

Well, the sun shone its hottest upon him and 
he never minded it ; the clouds rained their 
hardest upon him, but he was not disturbed ; 
the wind whistled and howled about him, but 
he was not in the least shaken ; the sea arose 
and hurled its mighty waves against him, but 
he tossed them back shattered and in confusion. 
He laughed gleefully : " Ho, ho ! Behold, I 
am stronger than the strongest ! " 

But one day there came rowing off from 
the land a funny little man in a funny little 
boat ; he came straight to the rock, landed 
vipon it, and, making the boat fast, he took 
out of it some hammers and chisels and a 

" Now," said the rock, " what do you want? 
But no matter — you can't have it; for I 'm 
the strongest, I '11 have you know ! " 

The little man gave no heed to this speech ; 
perhaps he did n't hear it. At all events he 
just went quietly to work with his hammers 
and chisels, and pecked away at the rock very 
sturdily, and to such good purpose that, in spite 
of all the rock's efforts to break and turn the 
edges of the little man's chisels, he soon had 
broken off quite a large piece. 

Upon this, the rock gave way to despairing 
rage. " Will there never be an end to this tire- 
some business ? " said the rock. " Shall I never 
get to be the strongest of the strong ? Well, I 
am not going to stop here ; I want to be that 
man ! I want to be that man!" 

Just as he finished speaking, or rather shout- 
ing, these words, a great wave came rolling up 
and drenched his sides; he started, shivered, 
and looked about him, and lo, he was again 
the same funny little man that he was at the 
beginning ! There were his boat and his tools, 
and even the remains of his dinner ! Fujinoko 
stared at them a while, lost in deep thought, 
and then suddenly he began to laugh — such a 
merry ha, ha ! as had never been known to 
issue from his lips. 

He seized his hammer and chisel and literally 
charged at the rock, whacking away so stoutly 
and sturdily that in a very short time he had 
all the material that he could conveniently 
carry ; then he loaded his boat, chuckling to 
himself all the while, and rowed away home. 

As soon as his friends saw him, they stared 
and said: "Hullo, what's the matter?" But 
Fujinoko only chuckled. '-Why, he has gone 
crazy ! " said they ; but he said nothing. And 
so he chuckled on, day after day, until people 
got clear out of patience with him, and said : 
" Whatever is the matter with you ? " And in 
as much as they had previously called him 
" Fujinoko the grumbler," they now called him 
" Fujinoko the merry." 

In fact, the little man came to be nearly as 
great a nuisance with his chuckling as he had 
previously been with his grumbling, and yet he 
never would tell what he was chuckling at. If 
you should happen to find out what it was, I 
wish you would tell me, for I am curious to 
know about it myself. 


■ '-^.h 


By Curtis May. 

I turn no mill ; no lake I fill ; 
No white sail flutters on my breast. 
I show no grace of naiad's face, 
Whose soft, warm foot my sands has pressed. 
From one small spring pure draughts I bring 
And tiptoe through the thirsty land. 
Cup-bearer I where brown wrens fly, 
And violets hide on either hand. 

In untaught song I flow along, 
Nor seek to utter that deep word 
The ocean spoke when first it woke 
And all creation paused and heard. 
God's hand hath bound its own true sound 
To every string he plays upon. 
His listening ear hears, soft and clear, 
The music of my whispered tone. 

Where goldenrod and asters nod 
And grasses edge my narrow stream, 
Where swallows dip and orioles sip 
My shining waters slip and gleam. 
Some little need in flower or weed 
To me alone in trust is given, 
And knoll and tree leave space for me 
To mirror forth a strip of heaven. 


By Howard Pvle. 

[Begun in the April number.'] 

Chapter VIII. 


One morning Jack felt somebody shaking 
him awake. " What is it ? " said he, opening 
his eyes heavily, and looking up into the face 
of Brookes. 

" 'T is land ! " said Brookes. " We 're in 
sight of land ! Don't you want to see it ? " 

Jack was out of his berth in an instant. 

The deck was wet and chill with the dew of 
the early morning. The sun had not yet risen, 
but the day was bright and as clear as crystal. 
The land lay stretched out sharp and clear-cut 
in the early morning light — a white strip of 
sandy beach, a level strip of green marsh, and, 
in the far distance, a dark, ragged line of wood- 
land standing against the horizon. 

Jack had seen nothing but the water for so 
long that his eyes had become used to the 
measureless stretch of ocean all around him. 
The land looked very near, although it must 
have been fully a league away. He stood 
gazing and gazing at it. 

" Well, Jack," said Brookes, " that there 's 

" Yes," said Jack; "but I tell you what it is, 
Brookes, if Captain Butts thinks he 's going to 
handle me just as he pleases after he gets me 
there, he 's mightily mistook." 

It was after sunset when the brig, half sail- 
ing, drifted with the insweep of the tide up 
the York River. Jack stood with the other 
redemption servants gazing silently and intently 
at the high bluff shores. Above the crest of 
the bluff they could see the roofs and brick 
chimneys of the little town. A half dozen ves- 
sels of various sorts were riding at anchor in 
the harbor, looming black against the bright 
face of the water just ruffled by the light 

breeze. The line of a long, straggling wharf 
reached some distance out across the water to 
a frame shed at the end. Along the shore 
toward the bluff were two or three small frame 
houses and a couple of big brick buildings. 
They were the tobacco warehouses. A boat 
was pulling off from the wharf — it was the 
customs-officer's boat. Other boats were follow- 
ing it. A sail-boat came fluttering from behind 
the wharf. Suddenly there was a thunderous 
splash. It was the anchor dropped. There was 
a quick rattling of the cable and a creaking 
as it drew taut. Then the "Arundel" swung 
slowly around with the sweep of the tide, and 
the voyage was ended. 

A minute later the boat with the customs- 
officer came alongside. Captain Butts met him 
at the gangway and took him into the cabin. 
In a little while boats, canoes, and dugouts 
came clustering about the Arundel. The re- 
demption servants crowded at the rail, staring 
down at them. A ceaseless volley of questions 
and answers were called back and forth from 
those below to those above. " Where d' ye 
come from ? " " Gravesend and Southampton." 
" What craft is this ? " " The Arundel of Bris- 
tol." " Comes from Gravesend, d' ye say ? " 
" Be there any man aboard that comes from 
Southwark ? " " Hey, Johnny Stivins, here be a 
man asks of Southwark." " Hi. there, what are 
ye doin' ? — d' ye want to stave us in?" A 
babel of a dozen voices at a time. 

Jack stood looking down through the now 
falling twilight to the figures below, dim and 
mysterious in the gray light. Just beneath 
where he stood was a dugout that had come 
off from the shore among the first. It was rowed 
by a negro. So far as Jack could see in the 
dusk he was naked to the waist. It all looked 
very strange and foreign. A white man sat in 
the stem. He appeared to have upon his head 
a kind of hat of woven grasses. He wore loose 



cotton trousers and was smoking a leaf of to- 
bacco rolled into a cigarro, the lighted tip of 
which alternately glowed and faded in the 
darkening twilight. 

Just then Captain Butts came out of the 
cabin with the customs-officer. " Here, Dyce!" 
he shouted at the mate, " send those men down 
into the steerage. We '11 have half on 'em 
running away in the dark next we knows on." 

The transports grumbled and growled among 
themselves as they were driven below. 

The day had been warm and the steerage 
was close and hot; a lantern hung from the 
deck above, and in the dim, dusky light the men 
stood crowded together. Presently one of the 
group began singing a snatch of a jovial song. 
Other voices joined in the refrain, and gradu- 
ally the muttering and grumbling began to 
change into a noisy and rebellious turbulence. 
The singing grew louder and louder, breaking 
now and then into a shout or yell. 

Jack had crept into his berth. It was close 
and stuffy, and it smelt heavy and musty after 
the fresh air above. He felt very dull and 
numb, and the noises and tumult in the close 
confines of the steerage stunned and deafened 

For a while the transports whistled and yelled 
and shouted unchecked. Then presently there 
was the noise of some one coming down into 
the forecastle beyond. It was Joe Bushley, 
one of the sailors. He came into the steerage, 
and at his coming an expectant lull fell upon 
the tumult. He carried a cocked and loaded 
pistol in his hand. His face was stolid and 
expressionless, and he looked neither to the 
right nor to the left. " What 're you going to 
do, Joe ? " called out one of the redemptioners. 
He did not answer; he went directly to the 
lantern, opened it, blew out the light, closed 
it again, and then turned away without saying 
a word. He went into the forecastle and blew 
out the lantern there, and then everything was 
instantly engulfed in an impenetrable and 
pitchy darkness. A burst of derisive yells 
followed Joe as he climbed clattering up the 
forecastle ladder again, but he paid no atten- 
tion to the uproar, and the next moment Jack 
heard the rattling of the slide of the scuttle as 
it was closed, and then the snapping of the 
Vol. XXI.— 90. 

lock. For a while after the lights were put out 
the uproar was louder than ever. The men 
thumped and banged and kicked. But in time 
the pitchy darkness quelled their spirits in spite 
of themselves, and little by little the tumult 
ceased. It broke out intermittently ; it quieted 
again, and then, at last, it subsided into a muf- 
fled grumbling. 

Jack lay in his berth staring into the dark- 
ness ; his ears seemed to hum and tingle with 
the black stillness that surrounded him. He 
felt intensely wide-awake, as though he could 
never sleep again. Teeming thoughts passed 
vividly through his brain. Visions of all he 
had seen during the day — the sandy shore, the 
distant strip of pine-woods, the restless, crawl- 
ing waters between — he could almost see the 

Chapter IX. 


INCE the capital had 
been removed to Wil- 
liamsburg, and since 
the Governor's Palace 
and the Government 
House had been es- 
tablished there, it had 
become the center of 
fashion in the colony. 
Just now the court was in session and the 
Council sitting, and Governor Spottiswood was 
holding court every Thursday. This particular 
day was rather close and warm, but there was 
an unusually large representation of the pro- 
vincial aristocracy and commonalty present. 
It was still not late in the afternoon, but there 
had already been a good many arrivals, and 
the gabbling sound of talking filled the As- 
sembly Room. The Governor, where he stood 
at the end of the room, was the center of a 
group of gentlemen who were clustered about 
him and in his immediate vicinity. It was al- 
most difficult to get past them to pay respects 
to his Excellency. Just then the talk was 
about a renewed trouble with pirates, who had 
begun again to infest the mouth of the Bay and 
the North Carolina Sounds. The notorious 
Blackbeard had broken his pardon and was 




again stopping vessels sailing between Virginia 
and the Carolinas. 

The "Pearl" and the "Lyme," ships-of-war, 
were just then lying at Jamestown, and some of 
•the officers had come over to pay their respects 
;at the palace. Some of them were standing near, 
listening to Councilor Page, who chanced to be 
speaking of the latest depredations of Black- 
beard. " He was lying down at Ocracock," 
said Mr. Page. " I had a sloop coming from 
the Tar River with some shingle-thatch for my 
new warehouse. Well, the villains stopped her 
and came aboard of her. Thev overhauled her 
cargo, and I do believe if they 'd known the 
cargo was for me they would have thrown it all 
overboard. But Williams said naught about 
that, and so they did not know whose 't was. 
There was nothing on board to serve the vil- 
lains' turn, and they might just as well have let 
the sloop go, but no — there that wretch, 
Blackbeard, held her for nearly two days so 
that she might not give the alarm of his being 
there to any incoming vessels. Williams — he 
was the captain of my sloop — said that while 
he was lying there under the pirate's guns he 
saw Blackbeard stop and levy upon some nine 
vessels of different sorts, rummaging all over 
their cargoes. He said it was chiefly rum and 
cloth the villain was after. He hath two armed 
sloops now, and a crew altogether of some 
forty or sixty men, and twice or thrice as many 
more to call upon if he chooses." 

" Why, zounds ! " said Lieutenant Maynard — 
" why, then, do you people here in the prov- 
inces put up with such a rascal as this Teach, 
or Blackbeard, or whatever his name is ? Were 
I in his Excellency's place here, I would fit out 
an expedition and send it down there and blow 
the villain clean out of the water, and have 
done with him." 

" Tut, tut ! Lieutenant," said the Governor, 
smiling, " that shows how little you men of war 
know about civil affairs. How could I, Gov- 
ernor of Virginia, fit out an expedition and 
send it down into North Carolina? Ocracock 
is under Governor Eden's jurisdiction, and 't is 
his place to move against them down in the 
waters of his own province." 

" Well, your Excellency," said Lieutenant 
Maynard, " to be sure I know naught about 

the law and only about fighting. But if a vil- 
lain stood at my neighbor's door and stopped 
my own people from coming out and going in 
upon my business, why, zounds ! your Excel- 
lency, I would have it out with him even if I 
had to chase him into my neighbor's house to 
do it." The Governor laughed good-naturedly, 
and the groups around him joined in. Then 
the Governor turned to meet some new-comers, 
who made their way through those surround- 
ing him. 

" I do declare," said Mr. Dillworth, " me- 
thinks Governor Eden of North Carolina is as 
bad as ever was Fletcher of New York at his 
worst times. 'T was this Blackbeard who mur- 
dered poor Ned Parker — the first young gen- 
tleman of Virginia — and yet Eden gives the 
villain a pardon as soon as he asks for it. 
They say his Excellency — Governor Eden, I 
mean — condemns all the prizes that Black- 
beard takes, and that he and his secretary, 
Knight, receive their share for doing so. But 
that was naught to pardoning the villain after 
he killed poor Ned I'arker." 

" Have you heard how Colonel Parker, Ned's 
father, is now ? " said Mr. Page. 

"Why, he 's better now," said Mr. Cartwright, 
a cousin of Colonel Parker's. " I was at 
Marlborough, myself, two weeks ago, and 
the gout seemed to have pretty well left him 

" Methinks he hath never been the same 
man since poor Master Ned was murdered by 
the pirates," said Mr. Dillworth. " I never saw 
anybody so broken by trouble as he was then. 
And, indeed, well he might be, thus to lose his 
only son." 

" His daughter, Miss Nelly, is a great beauty, 
I hear," said Lieutenant Maynard. 

" The girl is well enough," said Mr. Cart- 

Among the other and more social groups in 
the room was Mr. Harry Oliver, with his two 
young lady cousins, who stood over by an open 
window with two or three ladies younger and 
older. Harry Oliver was a young man of 
about eighteen years old. He wore his own 
hair curled and hanging to his shoulders ; he 
put it back with his hand every now and then 
as he talked. He showed his white teeth when 




he smiled. His large, dark eyes moved rest- 
lessly hither and thither. 

" Yonder comes Dick Parker," said Harry 

" Why, so 't is ! " said Miss Peggy Oliver. 
They all stood looking toward the new-comer. 
" Upon my word," she continued, " he is a man 
I can't abide for the life of me. As proud 
and haughty a man as ever I saw, he turns 
me to a block of ice whenever I am near him, 
and I can't find a word to say for myself." 

Oliver laughed. " Why, Peggy," he said, 
" that then must be why you can't abide him." 

Mr. Richard Parker, who had just come into 
the room, stood quietly waiting to speak to the 
Governor. He did not try to push his way 
through the groups that surrounded his Excel- 
lency, and for a while nobody saw him. His 
handsome, florid face, surrounded by a great, 
fine periwig of black hair, looked calmly and 
steadily in the direction of the Governor. He 
stood quite impassive, waiting an opportunity to 
go forward when he would not have to push 
his way through the crowd. Presently some 
one saw him and spoke to the others, and they 
made way for him. He went forward, still 
calmly, and paid his respects in a few brief 
words. He spoke with the Governor for a lit- 
tle while, or rather the Governor spoke to him, 
and he replied. All the time the Governor was 
speaking Mr. Parker was looking steadily and 
composedly around the room, replying every 
now and then. Again the Governor spoke, 
again he replied with a bow. There was a 
pause, and then Mr. Richard Parker bowed 
again, and withdrew to a little distance. 

" Why, only look at him now," said Peggy 
Oliver ; " even his Excellency is not good 
enough for him." 

" Well, to be sure, Peggy," said one of the 
elder ladies, " if Mr. Parker is proud, he hath 
enough to make him proud. Why, what a 
man of great fashion he hath been in his day ! 
'T is certain he was with the Duke of Marl- 
borough, and about his person in Flanders at 
the time of the battle of Malplaquet. T is a 
wonder to me that he should ever have come 
here to the provinces, seeing what a man of 
fashion he was at home in England." 

" Why," said Oliver, " maybe he 'd not have 

come if he could have helped himself. But 
what could any man do who was so swallowed 
up by debts as he ? They say that old Dun- 
more Parker when he was alive used to give 
him a fortune every year to spend ; yet, after 
all, he had to run away from the bailiffs. He 
oweth more money to creditors now than any 
other man in Virginia. They say that at one 
time he played a game of piquet that took 
four days ; 't was with a Frenchman, a noble- 
man — I forget his name — who was a pris- 
oner at Malplaquet. Indeed, 't was mightily 
hard upon him after his father died to find that 
all the estate except the Dunmore plantation 
was left to his brother, Colonel Birchall Parker." 

" But I don't see," said Miss Peggy Oliver, 
" that all that gives him the right to lord it ever 
us here in Virginia." 

They were looking at Mr. Parker. 

" Well, I must go over and speak to him," 
said Harry Oliver, suddenly ; " I have some- 
thing to tell him." 

He got up and went across the room to 
where Mr. Parker stood alone. " How d' ye 
do, Parker?" said he. 

Mr. Parker looked slowly at him. " How 
d' ye do, Oliver?" said he. 

" That 's a monstrous handsome piece of 
lace you 've got there, Parker," said the young 
man, looking at Mr. Parker's showy cravat. 

"'T is good enough," said Mr. Parker, briefly. 

" Is it Flemish ? " 

" Yes, sir." 

" We don't come across any such lace as 
that, here in Virginia," said the young man. 

" Don't you ? " 

Oliver stood beside him in silence. Almost 
unconsciously he assumed somewhat of the 
older man's manner, standing with his hands 
behind him and looking indifferently around 
the room. " Tell me, Parker," said he, " do 
you go down to Parrott's to-morrow ? " 

Again Mr. Parker looked slowly at him. 
" To Parrott's ! " said he. " What d' ye mean ? " 

" Why, have you not heard ? " exclaimed the 
young man eagerly, and glad to have found 
something to interest the other. " Why, there 
are to be six mains fought betwixt the gentle- 
men of Surry and the gentlemen of Prince 
George's. I heard say, too, "that Ned William- 




son has promised to bring down a three-year 
horse that he hath broke, and will run it in 
the afternoon, perhaps, against Tom Lawson's 
' Duke of Norfolk.' " 

Mr. Parker listened impassively. " I had 
not heard anything about it," said he; " I came 
down only yesterday." 

" What time do you go down to Parrott's ? " 
he asked presently. 

" To-morrow morning. I 'm going to stay 
at my uncle Tom's overnight. Will you go 
along ? " 

" Why," said Mr. Parker, " I had n't thought 
of it before. Maybe I will go." 

" I start in the morning," said Oliver, eagerly. 
" I '11 come over for you if you '11 go." 

" Very well," said Mr. Parker, "you may come 
over, and, if I find I can, I '11 go with you." 

Then he moved away without saying any- 
thing further. 

It was early twilight of the next evening 
when Mr. Richard Parker and Harry Oliver 
rode up to Parrott's house. The house itself 
was the largest of a cluster of unpainted frame 
buildings that stood just beyond the clearing, 
overlooking the bay from a low sandy bluff. 
A number of outbuildings and sheds sur- 
rounded it to the rear. Three pine-trees stood 
not far from the low porch that sheltered the 
doorway. A dozen or more horses were tied 
beneath the pine-trees, and near by them 
lounged a group of men, black and white. 
They ceased talking, and some of them took off 
their hats, as Mr. Parker and Mr. Oliver rode 
up to the door and alighted. Mr. Oliver nod- 
ded to them, but Mr. Parker paid no attention 
to any one. 

The two gentlemen went directly into the 
house. Tom Parrott's wife met them in the 
hallway, where was a scattered heap of hats 
and riding-coats. From the room to one side 
came the deep sound of men talking, and then 
a sudden outburst of voices. " I be mortal 
proud to see ye, gentlemen," said Mrs. Par- 
rott, dropping them a courtesy. " Indeed, Mr. 
Parker, you do honor us. You '11 find Tom 
and the gentlemen in yonder." 

" You go ahead, Oliver," said Mr. Parker, 
calmly ignoring Mrs. Parrott's welcome. 

Another loud burst of voices greeted the 
two as they entered the room, so dense with 
tobacco-smoke that at first they could see 
nothing at all. Tom Parrott pushed back his 
chair noisily and rose to meet the new-comers. 
He was a stout little man with a red face. It 
was redder than ever now. He had laid aside 
his wig, and his bald head glistened. He 
wore no coat ; his waistcoat was opened ; he 
wiped his face and head with his shirt-sleeve 
as he spoke. " Why, Mr. Parker," said he, 
"who 'd 'a' thought to see you? You be mighty 
welcome, Mr. Parker. Won't you take a hand 
at the game, sir ? Tim," to the negro, " push 
up that chair for Mr. Parker. You know all the 
gentlemen here, don't you, Mr. Parker ? " And 
then he stopped abruptly as though struck by 
a sudden thought. 

Mr. Richard Parker looked briefly around 
the table. He did know, at least by sight, all 
who were there but one. That one was a 
stranger to him : a tall man, who wore a long, 
thick, perfectly black beard tied into a knot 
with a piece of string. His thick, black hair 
was parted in the middle and brushed smoothly 
down upon either side of his head, and was 
trimmed squarely all around his neck. The 
locks at his temple were plaited into long 
strings that hung down on either side in front of 
his ears, in which twinkled a pair of gold ear- 
rings. His face was tanned by exposure to a 
leathery russet, but deepened to a bricky red in 
his cheeks. At the name of Parker the stranger 
had looked up sharply for an instant, and then 
had looked down again at the cards he was in 
the act of shuffling. A sudden hush as of ex- 
pectancy had fallen upon the room. Every- 
body was looking attentively at Mr. Parker and 
at the stranger. 

"Who is your friend yonder, Parrott ?" asked 
Mr. Parker. " I don't know him." 

" My name is Teach," said the stranger 
boldly — " Captain Teach, and I hail from North 
Carolina. I 'm glad to make your acquain- 
tance, Mr. Parker." He reached a brown, hairy 
hand across the table toward Mr. Richard 
Parker, looking up at him as he did so with 
an almost impudent steadiness. Mr. Richard 
Parker made no sign of recognizing the name 
the stranger gave himself. He and the pirate 



seemed to be the only self-possessed men in the 
room. He calmly ignored the proffered hand, 
but said in a perfectly equal voice, " Why, then, 
I am obliged to you for telling me," and then 
coolly took his seat and joined in the game. 

It was nearly morning when Mr. Parker and 
Mr. Oliver left the house. The moon, just past 
the full, hung in the east like a flattened globe 
of white light. The air was chill and smelt 
rank of marsh and woodland. The mocking- 
birds were singing in ceaseless medley from the 
thickets beyond. Captain Teach followed the 
two gentlemen as they came out of the house. 
" And when may I look for you to settle your 
losses, Mr. Parker?" said he. 

" I '11 talk with you to-morrow," said Mr. 
Parker as he set his foot in the stirrup. 

" But you '11 give me some written obligation 
of some sort, won't you ? " 

" I tell you, sirrah, I '11 talk with you to-mor- 
row. Do you hear me ? To-morrow ! " And 
then the two gentlemen rode away into the 
night, leaving the other standing looking after 

Chapter X. 


_-&•>, T was the morning af- 

Iter the arrival at York- 
IsqI4JJ town. Jack was awake 
1 iW 1 ) and up on deck bright 
fSri and early. The sun 
jjtxl had just risen upon 
a clear and cloudless 
day, and the brisk, 
fresh wind drove the 
crisp waves splashing against the brig as she 
rode at anchor. The foliage of the trees on 
shore whitened to the breeze, and the smoke 
blew sharply away here and there from some 
tall brick chimney. The town looked fresh 
and strangely new in the brightness of the 
morning. Three of the vessels that had lain in 
the harbor overnight were getting under way. 
The yo-hoing of the sailors and the creaking 
and rattling of block and tackle as the sails rose 
higher and higher apeak, sounded sharp and 
clear across the water. One large schooner 
heeling over before the wind, slid swiftly and 

silently past the Arundel. A group of sailors 
clustered along the rail were looking over to- 
ward the Arundel as they passed the brig, but 
the man at the helm — he wore a red woolen 
Montero cap — gazed out steadily ahead, stoop- 
ing a little so as to see under the boom of the 

It was well toward the middle of the day, 
and Jack was lounging in his berth when Dred 
suddenly appeared in the steerage. He stood 
looking silently around for a moment or two, 
and then seeing Jack, beckoned to him. Dred 
did not speak until they were out in the fore- 
castle. " The agent 's come from shore to take 
you all off, lad," said he. " He 's with Captain 
Butts in the cabin now, and in a minute or two 
you '11 be sent for." 

" To take us ashore ! " said Jack, with a sud- 
den keen pang. " Do you mean, to take us 
ashore to sell us ? " 

" Well, you '11 be sold arter a while," said 

" But," said Jack, " won't I get a chance tc 
see anybody ? I 'm not going to let them sell 
me, Dred, without saying something for myself. 
They 've no right to sell me, and they sha'n't 
sell me. Sure, there '11 be somebody ashore I 
can talk to ? " 

Dred shook his head. " You don't know what 
you 're talking about, Jack," said he. " Why, 
there be hundreds of pore fellows fetched to 
the Americas every year just as you 've been. 
What d' ye suppose they care here in the prov- 
inces how they 're fetched. But sit you down 
there a bit, lad " ; and he pointed to the sea- 
chest. " I 've a notion to try and tidy ye up a 
bit. I don't choose to have ye looking like 
them riff-raff"; and he jerked his head toward 
the steerage. " D' ye see, we two ha' been 
mates, ha'n't we ? " He had taken out his 
gunny-bag, and he now brought out of it his 
needle and thread ; he was looking up at Jack 
from under his brows as he spoke. " Well, 
then, seeing as we 're messmates, I won't have 
ye going ashore looking like nothing but trash. 
Cive me your coat and waistcoat." He had 
threaded his needle and waxed the thread 
deftly. Jack stripped off his coat and waist- 
coat, and without a word Dred began mending 
the frayed and tattered edges of the waistcoat. 

7 iS 



Jack stood silently in his shirt-sleeves watching 
him for a while. He had done what Dred had 
bidden him duly, but he thought of but one 
thing. There was a great hard lump in his 
throat as he stood watching Dred's busy fingers. 
" But do you mean to tell me," said he, " that 
there 's no law in Virginia to protect a body 
when a body 's been kidnapped ? " 

Dred shook his head. 

" And must I then just submit to it like a 
brute beast and be sold on a tobacco plan- 
tation and maybe never see home again ? 
Why, Dred — " He almost broke down. 

" Aye ; it do seem hard," said Dred, and he 
bit off the thread; " but that 's the way 't is, and 
so you just got to make the best of it. There, 
that looks betterish," and he held the waistcoat 
off and looked at it. " Here, take it," and he 
tossed it to Jack. " And now for the coat. I 
be as wonderful a man at mending clothes as 
1 be at spinning yarns — eh? Why, what a 
hole is here, to be sure ! " 

Jack stood for a long while in cruelly bit- 
ter thought. " That was the customs-officer 
came aboard last night," he said. " I wish I 'd 
told him about it, and I 'm sure he 'd have 
helped me." 

" Why, no, he would n't," said Dred. " He 
would n't 'a' listened to you a word ! Here 's 
your coat. No, no, lad, there 's naught for it 
but to make the best of it. And don't you go 
making trouble for yourself. You 're mightily 
young yet, and five or six year won't matter so 
much to you." While he was talking he was 
neatly putting away the needle and thread. 

" Five or six years! " cried poor Jack hoarsely, 
almost crying. 

Dred was fumbling in his gunny-bag. Pres- 
ently he fetched out a pair of yarn stockings. 
" Here, put these on," said he. " The ones you 
got be all full of holes. Give 'em to me." 

Jack, his throat dry and tight, changed his 
stockings, Dred standing over him. Suddenly 
the boatswain appeared at the companionway 
of the forecastle and piped all hands up on deck. 
Jack and Dred went up together. Captain 
Butts and the agent were standing waiting for 
the men, the agent holding a little packet of 
papers in his hand. Jack, in a glance, saw that 
the agent was a tall, lean man dressed in rusty 

black, wearing a long black coat, and with the 
flaps of his hat tied up with leather thongs. 
His lips moved as he counted the redemption- 
ers, one by one, while they came up out of 
the companionway and were formed in a line 
before him by the boatswain. A great fiat boat 
rowed by four negroes and with a white man in 
the stern had been made fast to the side of the 
brig. " Nineteen, twenty — that 's all of 'em, 
Captain " ; and the agent had counted Jack in 
with the others ; " and very lucky you 've been 
with 'em. Now, Bo's'n, get 'em down as soon 
as you can." 

" Aye, aye, sir," said the boatswain ; and then 
to the men, " Now then, look alive, my hear- 
ties, and don't take all day about it ! " 

Suddenly Jack went straight over to where 
the agent stood. " Master," said he, " I 'm 
not one of them redemptioners at all. I was 
knocked down and kidnapped." 

" Hold your noise ! " roared the captain. 

" No, I won't neither," said Jack. 

" I don't know anything about it," said the 

agent. " The invoice calls for twenty men 

shipped from Southampton, and your name 

must be among them. What 's your name ? " 

."Jack Ballister." 

"Yes, here 't is — 'John Ballister — seven 
years.' " 

" Seven years ! " cried Jack. 

" Yes, seven years. If there 's something 
wrong you '11 have to hold Captain Butts and 
Mr. Hezekiah Tipton to answer. I 'm only 
the agent." 

" I wish I had ye for a couple of days 
longer," said Captain Butts; "I 'd answer ye, 
I would. I 'd put my answer upon your back, 
I would, afore I 'd let ye go ! " 

" Why, Master Tipton 's my uncle," said 
Jack, despairingly. " Sure, he did n't mean 
for me to be kidnapped ? " 

" Well, I don't know anything about it," said 
the agent, impatiently. " You '11 have to get 
aboard the boat now." 

Jack gave one more despairing look around. 
Then, choking convulsively, he crossed the 
deck and climbed down into the boat. A mo- 
ment or two and the agent followed, and then 
immediately the boat was cast loose. As it 
pulled away toward the shore, Jack sat gazing 

i8 94 .J 



back across the widening stretch, of water. 
The brig blurred and dissolved to his brimming 
eyes, and the last thing he saw was Dred's 
bright red handkerchief gleaming like a flame 
against the blue sky as he stood on the rail 
looking after the departing boat. 

A little scattered cluster of men stood upon 
the wharf waiting for the flat boat, as it drew 
nearer and nearer ; and when it struck the piling 
with a bump, half a dozen willing hands caught 
the line that was thrown them and made it fast. 
Jack scrambled with the others to the wharf, 
under the curious gaze of those who stood 
looking on. They were formed into a line two 
by two, and then marched down the wharf 
toward the shore. The loungers followed them 
scatteringly. A strange feeling of unreality had 
taken possession of Jack. He felt somehow as 
though everything were happening vaguely in a 
dream. In the same fashion, as though in a 
dream, he reached«the shore, crossed the nar- 
row strip of beach, and marched with the others 
up a sloping, sandy road cut through the high 
bluff. At the crest they came out upon a broad, 
grassy street, upon which fronted the straggling 
houses, one or two built of brick, but most 
of them unpainted frame structures with tall, 
sharp-pointed roofs and outside chimneys of 
brick. A curious smoky smell pervaded the 

People stood at their doors looking at Jack 
and his companions as they marched two by 
two down the center of the dusty street ; but 
still everything seemed to Jack to be dim and 
distant from himself. 

At last they were halted in front of a large 
brick warehouse. The door was opened, and 
then they entered. It was perfectly empty, and 
smelt damp and earthy from disuse. The board 
floor was sunken unevenly, and the plaster was 
broken from the walls here and there in great 
patches. The two windows which looked out 
upon the rear of the adjoining houses were 
barred across with iron. Jack heard his com- 
panions talking together. " Well, Jack," said 
one of them, "here we be at last." But Jack 
did not venture to reply. 

It was the second night of his confinement, 
when Jack was aroused from his uneasy sleep 

by one of his companions who had clutched 
his shoulder and was shaking him. 

" What is it ?" cried Jack, starting up sharply, 
bewildered by his sudden waking. " Who is it? 
Who wants me ?" 

" Chris Dred 's at the window yonder and 
wants to speak to you," said the man who had 
aroused him. 

Two of the men were at the window, talking 
to Dred. Some of the others had been dis- 
turbed by the voices. They were turning and 
moving uneasily and restlessly, and Jack could 
dimly see that two or three were sitting up 
in the darkness. He made his way carefully 
among the sleepers to the window, where he 
could see the outline of a head against the 
night sky beyond. The redemptioners made 
way for him when he came. He climbed up 
on a box, holding by the iron bars. " Is that 
you, Dred?" he whispered, with his face close 
to the square of iron. 

" Yes, it be I," answered Dred in a whisper. 
" I 've left Captain Butts and the Arundel. I 
have deserted, and I ain't going back again. 
I 've joined the old crew again. I 'm going 
down to North Caroliny." 

" Joined the old crew ? — what do you mean ? " 

" Why, I mean that I 've joined with Cap- 
tain Blackbeard ag'in. Yesterday Captain Butts 
came ashore, and I was one of the crew of the 
boat that fetched him. What d' ye think? — the 
very first man I laid my eyes on when I stepped 
asftore was old Israel Hands. He was sail- 
ing-master aboard the ' Queen Anne's Re- 
venge ' when Captain Blackbeard had his fleet. 
Well, Hands he tipped me the wink, and by 
and by I got a chance to have a bit of talk 
with him. And what d' ye think he told me ? 
Why, that Captain Blackbeard had got tired 
of living a quiet life down at Bath, and gone 
back to the old trade again. Hands axed 
me if ' I 'd jine in with 'em,' and I said ' Yes,' 
and here I be. And so, d' ye see, I 'm a won- 
derful man up to the very last ; ain't I, lad ? " 

" But do you really mean that you are going 
to be a pirate again ? " asked Jack. 

" Why, that 's about what I 've been trying to 
tell you. Hands and Morton are waiting out 
there in front for me now, and I can't stop any 



The third day was the last of their confine- 
ment. It was about eleven o'clock when they 
were brought out of the storehouse, formed 
into line in front of the building, and then 
marched away in the hot sun down the street 
about a hundred yards to the custom-house. 
Jack saw a lounging, scattered crowd of men 
there, gathered in a little group, and he guessed 
that was where they were to be sold. 

The agent and the auctioneer stood by a 
horse-block, talking together in low tones as the 
man who had marched Jack and the others 
down from the warehouse formed them in line 
against the wall of the building. The agent 
held a slip of paper in his hand, which he re- 
ferred to every now and then. At last the auc- 
tioneer mounted upon the horse-block. 

" Gentlemen," Jack heard him say, " I have 
now to offer as fine a lot of servants as hath 
ever been brought to Virginia. There be only 
twenty, gentlemen, but every one choice and 
desirable. Which is the first one you have 
upon your list, Mr. Quillen ? " said he, turning 
to the agent. 

The agent referred to a slip of paper he held 
in his hand. " Sam Dawson ! " he called out in 
a loud voice. " Step out, Sam Dawson ! " and 
in answer to the summons a big, lumbering man 
with a heavy brow and dull face stepped out 
from the others and stood beside the horse- 

"This is Sam Dawson, gentlemen," said the 
agent addressing the crowd. " He hath no 
trade, but he is a first-rate, healthy fellow, and 
well fitted for the tobacco-fields. He is to be 
sold for ten years." 

" You have heard, gentlemen," said the auc- 
tioneer — "a fine big fellow, and sold for ten 
years. How much have I bid for his time ? 
How much ? Ten pounds is bid for his time — 
ten pounds is bid, gentlemen! I have ten 
pounds! Now I have twelve pounds! Now 
I have fifteen pounds ! " 

In a minute the price had run up to twenty 
pounds, and then a voice said quietly : " I will 
give you twenty-five pounds for the man." 

" Mr. Simms bids twenty-five pounds for the 
man's time in behalf of Colonel Birchall Parker," 
said the salesman. " Have I any more bids for 
him ? " But Mr. Simms's bid seemed to close 

the sale, for no one appeared to care to bid 
against him. 

Jack had been so dazed and bewildered by 
coming out from the dark and chill warehouse 
into the sunlight and life that he had hardly 
noticed anything very particularly, but now he 
did look at the man who had bought Sam Daw- 
son's time. He was a stout, red-faced, plain- 
looking man, dressed very neatly in snuff-colored 
clothes. As Jack wondered who he was, an- 
other man was called out from the line of 
servants. Again the bids ha"d run up to ten or 
twelve pounds, and then again Mr. Simms made 
a bid of twenty-five pounds, and once more no 
one bid against him. Another man and another 
were sold, and then Jack heard his own name. 

" Jack Ballister ! " called the agent. " Stand 
out, boy, and be quick about it ! " and Jack 
mechanically advanced from the others and 
took his place upon the block, looking around 
him as he did so at the circle of faces fronting 
him and all staring at him. He felt his breath 
coming and going quickly and his heart beating 
and pounding heavily. His mouth was dry, 
and he swallowed and swallowed. 

" Here is a fine, good boy, gentlemen," said 
the salesman. " He is only sixteen years old, 
but he will do well as a serving or waiting-man 
in some gentleman's house who hath need of 
such. He hath education, and reads and writes 
freely. Also, as you may see for yourselves, 
gentlemen, he is strong and well built. A lively 
boy, gentlemen — a good, lively boy! Come, 
boy, run to yonder post and back, and show 
the gentlemen how brisk ye be ! " 

Jack, although he heard the words, looked 
dumbly at the speaker. " D' ye hear me ? " 
said the agent. " Do as I bid ye ; run to 
yonder post and back ! " 

Then Jack did so. It seemed to him as 
though he were running in a nightmare. 

" The boy is strong," said the agent, " but 
does not show himself off as well as he might. 
But he is a good boy, as you may see." 

" Now then, gentlemen, how much do you 
bid for this boy ? " said the auctioneer. 

Once more the bids ran up, ten — twelve — 
fifteen pounds. " I give you twenty pounds for 
the boy's time," said Mr. Simms, and again no 
one offered to give more. 

( To be continued. ) 


Vol. XXL— 91. 


\ Ik/M 


In the " Tapioca is what we called 'em. It may 'a' 
blue shadow of been Tappy-appy-oca or Tapioca-oca, but it 
the Life-Saving Station don't signify. That ain't the point. The point 

He ran a 

sat Sailor Ben painting a toy boat, 
red stripe around the hull. 

" That brightens her a bit," remarked Sailor 
Ben. " I hopes the little lad will like her. Any- 
how, she 's wuth the half-dollar — every cent." 

" That 's gay ! " said a small boy in a sailor- 
suit, who just then came down the board walk 
from the hotel. " She '11 scoot along, won't 
she ? " 

" Sure-ly," answered Sailor Ben, 
solemnly ; " she can't help herself. She 's 
the model image of the ' Speedy Susan,' , 
and that was the slickest little brig 
ever see point forefoot toward bl 

" Was she wrecked ? " asked the 

" O' course she were," answered 
the old sailor. " She were bound 
to be — always sailing smack up 
ag'in' all the coral reefs she 
could find. She was tradin' in 
the South Pacific, and she had 
a fancy for coral reefs. She 
could n't keep clear of 'em. 
We hauled her off a matter of 
a dozen times, but it was n't 
no sort o' use. She 'd made 
up her mind to be wrecked 
— and wrecked she were, 
on the Tapioca Islands." 

" Tapioca ? " the boy 
asked, smiling doubtfully. 

is here : How did the Cook and the Bo's'n — 
that was me — get away from the cannibal 
savages ? " asked Sailor Ben, very impres- 
sively. " You might read your 
'Swiss Family j|[[L (/ ,/|,/;,y 




Crusoe' forty times without comin' within forty 
fathom of guessin' that little riddle." 

" Tell me about it," said the boy eagerly. 

" Are you sure you can lie by while I 'm 
tellin' it ? I don't like to have you signaled for 
just as I get all sail drawin'." 

" I can wait for half an hour," the boy 
answered. " They 've all gone in bathing." 

" Then put a stopper on that little chatter- 
box, open both your hearin'-ports, and — don't 
believe all an old sailor tells you when he 's 
spinnin' yarns to a little landlubber," said Sail- 
or Ben, with a good-natured chuckle. " Here 's 
the way it goes : " 

As I remarked in the start, the Speedy Susan 
wrecked herself off the Tappy-appy-oca Islands 
in the South Pacific. I was a green youngster 
then, but with the makin's of a sailor about me. 
After the brig bumped coral and filled, she 
thought she 'd make a call on Mr. Davy Jones. 
Not havin' been invited, I made up my mind 
to stay above water as long as I could. 

" Come," says I to the Cook, " you and me 
ain't captains o' this ungrateful craft. Our bet- 
ters may go down in glory with the ship, but 
bo's'ns and cooks can't be spared like officers, 
and swimmin' ashore is all we 're good for." 

The Cook was a level-headed kind of a 
darky, — he made the best plum-duff I ever 
see, — and he says: "All right, sah." So over 
we went like a couple o' flying-fish, and come 
up like two tortoises. But it was a powerful 
stretch to swim, bein' a matter o' forty mile or 
so; and I mistrust whether we might n't 'a' 
joined Mr. D. Jones's little party down below 
if it had n't been for the Bo's'n (me). When I 
heard Snowball (the Cook, you mind) puffing 
grampus-fashion, I says to him, says I : 

" Snowball, you sunburnt sea-cook, float on 
your back and I '11 tow you a bit." So he did, 
and I grappled his wool and towed him as easy 
as if he were the Lord Mayor o' London in his 
kerridge. When I begin to puff like a steam- 
tug, Snowball played horse for me while I lay 
baskin' like a lazy whale o' Sunday. So we 
went — Bo's'n tugging Cook, and Cook repay- 
in' the compliment till we got in soundin's. 

I 'm not a-goin' to describe the Tappy-appy 
Islands. You 've got your Jography, and you 

can read about 'em any time. The only thing 
that 's pecooliar about the islands you '11 see as 
I get along with my facts. 

We come ashore in good shape, water-logged, 
but sound in every timber, and chipper as ma- 
rines in a ca'm. We had nothin' but our togs 
to look after, and we set there makin' observa- 
tions on the weather and the good qualities of 
our late shipmates, till we had drained off some. 
Then we begun to talk of explorin' a bit. 

We had n't fixed on a plan when somethin' 
happened that knocked our plans into a cocked 
hat. Up came a lot of natives rigged out in 
feathers and things, jabberin' seventeen to the 
dozen, and maybe more. They surrounded us, 
and we hauled down our flags without firm' a 
gun — which we had n't any. They decorated 
us with grass-rope bracelets, tied us into two 
shipshape bits o' cargo, shouldered us, and set 
sail inland, singin' songs o' triump'. 

"Cook," says I, "we 're a-goin' int' the 

" I 'm afeared we be," he pipes up sorrowful 
enough, thinkin' I meant they was cannibals. 

" Avast ! " says I. " Men don't sing when 
they 're hungry." 

And I was right. When they got us up to 
their town, they cast us loose, and gave us free 
board and fair lodgin's, considerin' — for you 
would n't be wantin' electric-bells and bills-o'- 
fare in such outlandish regions. 

Skippin' the months when we was just gettin' 
acquainted with their ways, I '11 get on to the 
adventure part. I '11 say no more than that 
we lived in clover, till Cook he begun to be 
homesick. I did n't mind it myself. 

" Cook," says I, " it 's a kind of a copper- 
colored vacation when you look at it right — 
reg'lar rations and nothin' to do." 

" It ain't like New Bedford," was all he 'd 
say; and the same I could n't deny. 

But I 'd picked up their lingo till I could 
convairse fair and free like a genteel Tappy- 
appyocan, passin' the time o' day with the best 
of 'em. But the Cook was diff 'rent ; he had a 
wife and little kids at home, and there was n't 
any way of hearin' from them. He had been 
the darkest darky on the islands, but he faded 
to the shade of a chaplain's every-day coat at 
the end of a long cruise. I felt sorry for him. 

7 2 4 



So one day, though I had an invitation to play out — a regular plum-duff and soft-Tommy 

tenny-tenny hop-hop — which, queerly enough, spread: plenty o' the best, and charge it to 

was n't unlike tennis and hop-scotch mixed up the steward ; and he set great store by makin' 

together — I politely begged off, and piloted a show for reasons that I happened to know. 


the Cook down to the " sad sea waves " (as I once 
heard a sweet-singin' young woman remark). 

"Cooky," says I, "you are most shockin' pale, 
and unstiddy upon your pins. Are you land-sick?" 

" Ter tell de trufe, sah," says he, pipin' his 
eye, " I am wantin' powerful to git back ter ole 
New Bedford ; and I don't see dat dese onciv- 
ilized colored pussons are goin' ter let us go." 

" Well, cheer up," says I ; " for I 've calcu- 
lated a course that oughter fetch us clear." 

I made out a chart of my idee, and the black 
Cook he "yah-yahed" till he reminded me of a 
high-striking hyena what I once seen in a cirkis. 
But it was no wonder. 

The way of it was this : the chief of the 
Tappyappyocans was goin' to give a big blow- 

That 's what made me think of my plan, and 
that 's why the Cook grinned. 

So back we went to find the chief, — Tiffin, 
I called him, — and I hailed him till he came 
out from his hut where he 'd been palaverin' 
with his chief cook. 

" Tiffin," says I, " great Chief of the Tappy- 
appies" (for these benighted heathen likes titles, 
and has no idee of the glorious off-hand ways 
of a republic like ours), "you 're goin' to give 
a noble eatin'-match ? " 

"True, Moonface," says he; for that 's the 
name I went by, though I was more like a beet 
in the face than like the moon. 

" I s'pose you want things to go off in tip- 
top stvle?" I went on as easy as you please. 

i8 9 4-: 



" You know well, Moonface," says he, his 
complexion gettin' a shade darker, " that my 
brother, the chief of the Succotash Islands " 
(there 's where my memory 's not what it 
should be — I don't rightly remember the Jog- 
raphy name) " is to dine with me, and he has 
far and away the champion cook o' these parts. 
Three wars have we fit over that there cook." 

" I don't recall mentionin' the fact previously," 
I remarks, "but Snowball here — he 's the boss 
medicine-man over a galley-stove that I ever 
saw" (that 's the sense of what I said) — ''in 
fact, he 's the chief-cook and first-chop bottle- 
washer of your pale brothers ! " 

" Well, well ! " says the chief, after a spell, and 
lookin' at Snowball with int'rest. " You do 
surprise me." 

" Yes, sirree ! " I went on, slapping the cook 
on the shoulder, and 'most keelin' him over. 
" But to tell you the plain facts o' the case, his 
heart pants for the 
land of his people." 
(These savages de- 
light in poitry talk, 
and I had picked it 
up along with their 
lingo.) " His neck is 
stretched with gazin' 
to-wards the land o' 
the free and the 
home o' the brave ! " 

O' course he never 
knew the words was a 
quotation from a pop- 
ular ballad, and it 
moved him — it came 
so sudden. Still, he 
did n't give right in. 
He saw where I was 
a-steerin', but did n't 
choose to let on. So 
at last I purtended to 
be a little hurt and 

"All correct," I 
says; "if Cook and me can't go home to rav 
country 't is of thee, you sha'n't serve up to 
your dusky friend the great food of the pale 
brothers ! " and I whistled " Yankee Doodle " 
slow and solemn, like a hvmn tune. 

That was too much for him. 

" If I might have plenty of this great pud- 
din', I maybe would let you go," he says, after 
a long think. " But I 'd like to taste a sample 

" It 's a go ! " I says, takin' him up right off. 

Now, the queer point about these islands 
was the fact that a humpin' big mount'in rose 
right in the middle o' the largest one. It was 
a played-out volcano, and the top of its peak 
was covered with real snow. That 's what put 
the notion into my mind first off. 

That afternoon me and the cook climbed 
that peak and fetched down baskets full of 
snow and chunks of ice. Then we cut two 
sections of bamboo — one as big as a water- 
butt and the other not quite so big. There 
was plenty of salt alongshore, and we toted 
some to the grove. 

The cook he loaded the littler bamboo nearly 


IT S A GO ! 


to the muzzle with goat's milk, and dumped in 
a couple o' dozen o' turtle-eggs, and sweetened 
the mess to taste with sugar-cane juice — and 
then we fixed on a long bamboo pole to the 
small cask inside, and round I went as if it was 




a capstan-bar. Round and round, round and 
round .' And round, some more — till my back 
was breakin' with it. 

But it froze stiff; and when we fished it out, 
it was a kind of oncivilized ice-cream. The 
cook he tasted it, in the way o' duty ; but he 
looked worser than when he was homesickest. 

" No, thanky," says I, when he offered 
me a dose ; "but don't look blue, Cooky. 
It '11 go down with these heathens — 
you see if it don't." 

orter 've 

It did 


seen the chief smile when he got some — why, 
his grin lit up the landscape. 

" Moonface Medicine-man," says he, as he 
scraped the sides o' the bamboo bowl we gave 
him, " your chill-puddin' is the finest thing I 
ever saw ! Prepare a hundred calabashes for 
the Chief of the Succotash Islands, and you 
shall go free. I will make him knock his head 
to the dust ! " 

" It 's a bargain, great Chief! " says I, and he 
marched back to his hut as proud as a new 
commodore on Sunday. You see, we were 
careful to give the chief a safe dose, and we 
fired the rest into the bushes. 

Well, just before the great day we set a gang 
of natives to totin' down snow and ice, cuttin' 
bamboo for freezers, crushin' sugar-cane, and 

gatherin' turtle-eggs. We made enough o' the 
awful stuff to sink an Indiaman, and left it 
packed in snow in a cool place in the woods. 
The day of the grand barbecue came. 

First our chief he 
put on a poor face, 
and trotted out reg- 
ular old played-out 
native dishes — bong- 
bong, and maboo-taboo, 
fried cush-cush — com- 
mon dishes such as a 
third-rate chief might 
have 'most any day. 
I see the other chief's 
lip curlin' up till it 
'most hid his snub- 
nose — with scorn, and 
with pride in his own 
cook. But our chief 
was just a-leadin' old 
Succotash on — foolin' 
him, you see. 

Then come dessert. 
Our chief he remarks, 
careless and easy : 

" I have a new dish, 
royal brother, if you 
will try it ? " 

" Don't care if I 
doi" says the other, as 
if not carin' particular 
about it. 

Our chief he whacked a gong, and in came a 
string of mahogany slaves proudly supportin' 
fancy calabashes loaded with that outlandish 

" What, may I ask, is this ? " asks the royal 

guest, a trifle oneasy, mistrustin' the other po- 

tentater was a-savin' his trumps for the last trick. 

"Moonface chill-puddin'!" says our chief, 

impressive and grand. 

It was set out, and at the word o' command 
every noble guest dipped into his calabash. 
Words o' mine can't depict that scene. I 'd 
have to talk French to do it. It was like 
the finish of a tub-race. When I saw them all 
a-eatin' fast when they could, and a-tryin' to 
warm their froze noses when they could n't, I 
nudged Snowball on the sly. 




" Cook," I whispers, " we '11 start now, I 
guess. Those fellers don't mean to stop as long 
as they can lift a spoon — and I 'm afraid 
they 'II overdo this thing. If we waits till dys- 
pepsy sets in, we '11 never see Hail Columbia 
any more." 

He saw the sense o' my remark, and we got 
out and scooted. I hoped they would n't eat 
more than human natur' would stand — but 
when I thought o' that mixture, my heart kind 
of rose in my throat. 

We did n't get away too early. Our dugout 
had a start, but soon we made out a war-canoe 
putting after us. 

" Can they overhaul us ? " I asks the Cook. 

" No, sah ! " he says, positive- 
like, and with a 
grin. "You ---_ g=s 

jest wait till - -^ \ 

" If I catch you, you have to eat your own 
chill-puddin' ! All my people are tumbled 
over with bad magic ! " 

" Adoo, Chief! " I sings out. "We was afraid 
you 'd eat too much ! " 

He bowled a war-club at us, but he was n't 
feelin' strong, and then he keeled over ; and that 
was the last of the Tappy-appy-ocas. 

" Now, here 's your boat," said Sailor Ben, 
as he finished the story. " Let her get good 
and dry, or you '11 be gettin' your clothes 
mussed up with it." 

" Thank you ever so much for the boat, 
and for the story, too," said the little boy, 
as he took the new boat daintily 
by the masthead. 

" I hope," said Sailor 

Ben, looking 

after his 

that pison git a 
fa'r chance ! " 

And by the 
time they got with- 
in hailin' distance, most 
o' the paddlers had keeled 
over, one by one, into the 
hold o' their canoe. Then 

she came to a dead halt. It was just in time, little friend, and picking up his paint and 
too, for the chief he stood up near the idol brushes, " that the little landlubber did n't 
they had for a bow, waving his club, and his believe all that nonsense. He seemed rather 
voice came faint over the water: serious and solemn over it." 



By E. L. Sylvester. 

I 've a clever little friend 

I should like to recommend, 

In case you need a picture of your dog, or cow, or cat; 

Or a drawing of a house, 

Of a lion or a mouse, 

Or a portrait of a lady in her new spring hat. 

Almost anything you will 

She '11 draw with greatest skill, 

From a ship upon the ocean to a bear with awful claws; 

And when her work you see 

I 'm sure you must agree 

It really is remarkable — the way my artist draws. 

By Oliver Herford. 

The Poetoffereth " REALLY, Fly! VOU OUght tO kllOW 
to deliver a Fly ' J J o 

from the Better, surely, than to go 

Spider's web. . , 

Into Mr. Spiders net. 
Luckily / 'm here to set 
You free"; but ere I could have stirred, 
Mr. Spider's voice I heard 
Crying in an angry tone : 
" Better let my lunch alone ! 

Even spiders' « Qne would think, for all you care, 

rights ' -' ' 

most be respected. Spiders could subsist on air. 
Listen to this tale and see 

If you don't agree with me 

I sat down without a word, 
Following is the tale I heard : 

The Spider 
spinneth a yarn 

to instruct the Poet 
and divert him 

that he may forget 
about the Fly. 


A Prince who sought 
His lost Bride, caught 

In the toils of a witch, — woe 
betide her! — 
When riding one night 
Through a forest, caught sight 
Of a Spi in the web of a Flyder. 

(As perhaps you surmise, 
I have tried to disguise, 

The names, with the best of intention; 
For I make it my plan, 
Whenever I can, 

To avoid any personal mention.) 

Said the Prince to the Spi, 
" Supposing that I 

Should deliver you out of this hate- 
Will you pay me in kind, 
Vol. XXI.— 92. 7*° 

And help me to find 

My bride? — Can I count on your grateful- 
ness ? " 

Said the Spi, " Without doubt, 
If you will let me out 

From the web of this terrible Flyder, 
By all means — oh, yes! 
You shall find your Princess, 

For I will myself be your guider ! " 

One jerk ! He was free, 
And liis buzzing and glee 

Drove the Prince to the verge of dis- 
The Flyder, meanwhile, 
Wore a cynical smile, 

And a look of — well — not 

The Prince paid no heed, 
But mounted his steed, 

The Flyder 
does not see it in 
the same light as 

the Prince. 


/J k 


And started the Princess to find. 
The Spi led the way, 
But little dreamed they 

That tlie Flyder had mounted behind 7 

He found her, it 's true, 
And the wicked witch, too, 

Who fled when he up and defied her ; 
But while being wed, 
Hanging over her head, 

The Princess caught sight of the Flyder ! 

At the terrible sight, 
Her reason took flight. 

Till she was completely bereft of it, 
When she drained a tureen 
Full of cold Paris green, 

And the Prince swallowed all that was 
left of it ! 

Listening to the Spider, I 
Quite forgot poor Mr. Fly 
And his pitiable plight 

Setting forth how a 
Poet and a Fly 

were both taken in 

by a Spider's yarn, 
and how that a 

diverting ta!e may 

Till the tale was finished quite, speed a good 
Then, alas ! too late I knew. 


Mr. Fly was finished, too. 


By Juliet Wilbor Tompkins. 


All the way down from the Pole he came, 
With a sealskin suit and a yard of name, 
That each little every-day boy might know 
How a little boy looks who 's an Eskimo. 

Think of a boy who 's as big as that, 
And never has tasted a thing but fat 
And oil and blubber and reindeer steak, — 
Who never has heard of a buckwheat cake ! 

Jolly and broad is his dear little grin, 
Showing the small-boy fun within ; 
Maybe he '11 tell you it is n't so bad 
To be a real little Eskimo lad. 

His stout wooden sled, all the long year round, 
Goes screakety-screak on the frozen ground. 
His toes may be cold and his fingers may freeze, 
But he never is bothered with A B C's. 

When he goes home, he '11 astonish them there 

With the curious things that they eat and wear 

Down in the land where he went to show 

How a little boy looks when he 's Eskimo. 

* The name of a real little Eskimo boy at the Midwinter 
Fair in California. 

Just look, it is the market hour 

The People how they run and play ! 
The crier tells them from the tower 

They all can have a holiday. 
The King, the clever King, has guessed 

What long to him a riddle 's been : 
The dumplings — but you know the rest — 

How did they get the apples in ? 
He was too proud to ask the cook, 

As you or I at once would do ; 
He 'd sit and think — he 'd sit and look. 

At last he jumped up crying, " Pooh ! 
I know it now! Let glad bells chime — 

Go, bid the people run and play, 
Although it is the market-time 

They all shall have a holiday ! " Lee Carter 

Cncy strottc/cL o.t S\xrifie-t d-own bKc- tt'Q.c-K ctncL loa-ytKccL xxiooir^ Som-c^ pil<&£ , 

-By <i/irflT,t o'clocK tKa- Aumm «/*» Sea. -wd.3 flowi i^gj t owa-rds \Ka- fiKoi**., 
^A-*t.cL VKorc , I tlairiK. , tKe-y cn,ll rfot cLo-wrs. e\.i-*c& fijd.^T.p' of \.\ no mor«». 

IKe- Infcvnt Camel I e*lt cle-pre-SSe-cL,— 
W CcvSe- of cLoLc-fiJ-L ct\j.rri|3S, 

xH<zs Doctor Sd-icl , It Seems to ame- 
'iHti.S Joci-eK Kcvs £°t tKe- mumps." 


iHifi clicv^nosis dLicL cltverb 

tArtd ske- diet it to tKc- Cat, 
lA.itcL he' sm-tlect Som^wKaV,. too. 


By Alice B. Engle. 

Once upon a time, — not so very long ago, — 
a gentleman who had a beautiful garden thought 
that it would be very nice to have some bees ; 
so he bought six or seven hives, and placed 
them in the loveliest corner of the garden, under 
an old apple-tree. There was a large bed of 
mignonette and a small field of clover hard by. 

The bees seemed to like their new home very 
much, and went to work gathering honey, and 
buzzing the while in the cheeriest way. 

Now this gentleman not only wanted the 
honey that his bees would make, but he wished 
to watch the habits of the bees as well, and be- 
fore giving you the story, I am going to tell you 
one sad little truth and a few facts about bees. 
A working-bee lives only six weeks after he 
begins his work in the spring. But during that 
six weeks he works early and late to gather 
the honey-dew and store it away in the hive 
for you and me, and for the young bees to 
eat the following winter, when they dare not 
stir out of the hive. Bees will travel on the 
wing six or seven miles to find food or water 
if they cannot get it nearer home. One work- 
ing-bee can make only about one teaspoonful 
of honey during its lifetime ; so it takes an 
army of bees to fill one hive full of honey. 

Now for the story. 

The gentleman had heard that it was a com- 
mon thing for beekeepers to use manufactured 
honey-comb in their hives. It is made from 
beeswax, after the honey is extracted, pressed 
into large sheets, and fastened in frames twelve 
inches square, and then hung in the hives. 
The bees make the cells deeper, fill them with 
honey, and cap them over with thin white wax, 
to keep the honey in the cell and to keep it 
clean and sweet. You see that the bees can 
make a little more honey if they do not have to 
stop to make the comb. Honey from the man- 
ufactured comb is called extracted honey. It 
is taken from the comb in a machine made 
for this purpose. Then the comb is rehung in 

the hive, and the bees fill it again. So the gen- 
tleman put this kind of comb in three hives ; 
but in the other hives he left the bees to make 
the good old-fashioned kind of " honey in the 
honey-comb," that is so sweet and beautiful. 

One morning the gentleman found that the 
bees around one of his hives were flying wildly 
in and out, making an angry buzzing the while. 
He knew at once that something was wrong, 
and that the bees were talking about it. 

The gentleman went to the hive and took off 
the top and looked in, and found that one of 
the large sheets of the manufactured honey- 
comb was broken across, and the honey drip- 
ping down upon the floor of the hive. The 
gentleman thought at once of a way to help the 
bees. He pressed the broken comb together, 
and back into its place in the frame, and then 
took clean white twine, and tied the comb into 
the frame, and hung it back in the hive. 
Then he went a short distance and watched 
and listened to see what the bees would do and 
say. The bees flew into and out of the hive 
and soon grew quiet, and commenced their 
cheerful happy buzzing, without one note of 

The next morning the gentleman went out 
again very early, and found the bees quiet and 
happy ; but he saw something that surprised 
him very much. In front of one of the hives 
the short grass was white with a fine fuzz or lint. 
He examined it closely and found that it was 
fine white cotton lint. He said to himself: 

"This is the hive that has the mended honey- 
comb in it. I will look in." 

He took off the top of the hive again, and 
what do you think he found ? 

The bees had mended the broken comb 
with beeswax, and then those bright little 
things had cut all that twine into bits of fine 
lint, and carried it out of the hive, bit by bit, 
until there was not the least thread of lint left 
on the honey-comb or in the hive. 




Hokey-pokey ! Hokey-pokey I 

Here 's the hokey-pokey man, 

With his little cart and can, 

Painted green and seeming neat 

As the hokey-pokey 's sweet. 

Where 's your money? Have you any? 

You can purchase for a penny 

Hokey-pokey, sweet and cold, — 

For a penny, new or old. 

Nice old hokey-pokey man, 
Hair so dark and skin so tan, 

By Louise Morgan Sill. 

With a smile as bland and free 
As his own dear Italy! 
With a coaxing voice as well, 
Alternating with the bell 
Which he rings to make them hear 
Hokey-pokey man is near. 
See them running swiftly down, 
As in ancient Hamelin town, 
When the piper led them all, 
Prisoned in the mountain-wall: 
See them running, every size, 
Large and small, and hear their cries, 
From the good child to the bad, 
From the baby to the lad : 
"Bring a penny if you can — 
Here 's the hokey-pokey man ! " 

Poor old hokey-pokey man, 
With his cart, and bell, and can ! 
Gone is all his frozen store, 
Home he limps to bring some more. 
All the children gaily cry, 
As they see him passing by 
In the mellow evening sun, 
When his daily task is done : 
" Go and fill your empty can, 
Poky hokey-pokey man ! " 


By Mary R. Cox 

Few readers of St. Nicholas have known 
the anxieties and delights of raising turkeys. I 
should like to tell them some of my experiences. 

In April your turkey-hens will not stay to- 
gether, as they have done all the winter, but 
each seems to have a separate secret, and you 
will often meet one in the most unexpected 
places, far away from the house. Then the 
deceitful old turkey-hen will try to look so un- 
conscious ! She just goes on plucking at the 
grass and weeds, slowly turning first one way 
and then another in an aimless fashion ; and 
when she is sure you are watching her, she will 
lead you back and forth, around and around, 
sometimes for half a mile. Yet — would you 
believe it? — right here, near by, along the 
fence in a clump of grass, or under some dried 
brush, or perhaps in the middle of the pear- 
orchard, with never a thing to mark the spot, 
or in a tangle of blackberry-bushes in the old 
graveyard on the cool moist earth is a nest of 
speckled eggs ! But take care ! Do not for 
the world put your hand in the nest ! You 
must take those eggs out with a fresh, clean 
spoon — turkeys are "mighty partic'lar," as the 
colored people say ; but if you don't take them 
the crows or the setter dog will. You must 
leave her a " nest-egg," of course, and above 
all things the hen must not see you do this; 
for you and she are playing at hide-and-seek. 

Some day you will find her sitting on the 
nest, crouched down close to the ground, with 
a scared look in her pretty brown eyes. Don't 
say a word: trip noiselessly away, and late that 
evening give her back those speckled eggs, 
slipping them under her with your hand. She 
will pluck you, but do not mind that; you and 
she will be friends some day. 

Once I made a turkey sit in a hen-house 
where there was many a rat-hole. She had 
been on the eggs four weeks when little turkey- 
voices were heard beneath her, and little tur- 
key-heads peeped out from among her breast 
feathers. When I took her up by both wings, 
such plucking and picking and scratching as 


she did ! I looked, and behold ! not a turkey- 
chick was there. The little things just out of 
the shell, obeying the wild instinct of their 
nature, had "scooted" in the twinkling of an 
eye, leaving a nest of empty shells. I hunted 
all over the hen-house, but no sight or sound 
of them could be heard, but, as I turned away, 
I heard the old hen calling softly; then, more 
softly still, came the answers, and from rat- 
holes, from wisps of scattered straw, from chips, 
from cracks, and from corners, the little ones 
came creeping back to the nest. I caught 
them, though, after all, and did as an old wo- 
man told me. With my finger-nail I scratched 
off the little " pip " at the end of each tiny bill, 
and, holding the little turkey firmly and placing 
a finger in the bill to keep it open, I crammed 
the little pip — which looks like a piece of meal 
husk — and a whole grain of black pepper 
down each little throat. The black pepper 
makes them warm. Then the young turkeys 
are treated to a dab of salt grease and snuff, 
mixed together in a brown paste, first on the 
top of each head, and then under each lit- 
tle throat. Their food is now to be wet corn- 



meal and chopped garlic on onion tops — with 
an occasional seasoning of black pepper on 
damp days. How those little turkeys like 
onion tops ! They actually squeal with de- 
light when they smell them. What tussling 
when two or three are hanging on to the 
same piece ! What funny little things they are ! 
— so weak in their legs, so easily upset, yet so 
strong in their bills. You can lift a little turkey 
off the ground with an onion top, if he once 
gets a firm hold. 

And then when there comes a sudden 
shower, how you have to run to " shoo " the 
old hen and young ones to the coop! The 
coop is far from the house, perhaps, and the 
turkeys are farther off still, and the old hen al- 
ways wants to go in the wrong direction — and 
the little turkeys, tame by this time, always 
get under your feet, and you have to shuffle 
along to keep from stepping on them, — with 
your dress outspread to help shoo with. It 
would better be an old dress, too, and one that 
will wash, for very likely you will be drenched 
before you get in. Next the coop must be 
covered with an old carpet to keep out the 
pelting rain. A healthy turkey-coop is al- 
ways very open and airy, being made of pine 
sticks crossed at the four comers as in a pig- 
pen, with an old board shutter or door on top 
for a roof. 

I have a great deal to thank my little turkeys 
for. They make me get up early. Whatever 
may be thought of early rising as a measure of 
health for boys and girls, it certainly makes the 
turkeys healthy; and you get up at four or five 
of a summer morning and turn them out in 
the fresh dew. Of course their feet and legs 
get wet, making their little bodies look as 
if they were perched on long stilts, but that 
does no harm. They are very dependent on 
dew, and if kept from this pure fresh drink 
they would pine away and die. 

What queer little things they are, to be sure ! 
Even though they know you well, when with a 
pan of food you go searching and calling the 
name you have given them (and, by the way, 
you must never change that name), the mother 
hen will give a peculiar note of warning, and 
quick as a wink not a chick is to be seen ! You 
part the grass, peep here and there, you wait — 

but not until the old hen, faithful, suspicious 
sentinel that she is, tells them in a different 
tone that all is well, do they come straggling out 
from — where? There is nothing to hide them 
that you see. Now you count — "one, two, 
three" — up to eighteen, perhaps; but you are 
sure you had twenty-five in the flock ! -You 
feel uneasy ; this time they are surely gone. 
No, they are not; they are only hiding, and 
will come out as soon as you move away. 

As turkeys grow older, they become less 
timid. Soon you find you have a fine flock 
of feathered birds, though thinned out somewhat 
by the crows and hawks. The coop begins to 
be too small at night. The top fence-rail, hard 
by, looks so cool and airy, and is just high 
enough, too, for the young wings to reach. 
Sometimes they find your shoulders, or even 
the top of your head, a good perch. A pretty 
sight is to see a long row of dusty-brown half- 
grown turkeys crouched close together on the 
top fence-rail, heads and tails either way, look- 
ing for all the world like beads on a string, 
with the mother-wings outstretched to cover 
as many children as they can — like a big 
locket on the chain ! 

Then look out for owls.' 

One's best plan is to get the turkeys to go 
to bed in the leafy branches of a tree. Our 
two storm-bent catalpas, with leaning trunks, 
served my purpose. Such times as I have 
had, late in the evening, shooing the sleepy 
tribe up the trunk and into the branches of 
those catalpas ! 

My turkeys grew and grew through the long 
summer days, and fast became dark, shiny, 
rainbow-hued, long-legged young gobblers or 
short-legged hens. They made raids on the 
corn-fields, plucked the hearts out of the cab- 
bages, and devoured the other vegetables ; and 
every evening, after the day's foraging was 
done, they talked it all over on the lawn. 
The young gobblers spread their fan tails, and 
bullied the roosters, and strutted around in twos 
and threes and dozens, as if performing military 
evolutions ! Then, one by one, as the stars 
came out, up the catalpa-trees they flew, and 
soon loomed quiet and dark against the clear 
gray sky. Night after night I counted them, 
and knew they were all there. 


By Garrett Newkirk. 

Vol. XXL— 93. 






/n ASS ACHU SETTS. ''\|l| 

Note.— Vermont is shaped like the head of a hatchet, edge uppermost. Massachusetts has 
" an arm and hand," in Cape Cod. 



By Edward S. Moore. 

Across the Quinepiac River near New squabbling and shrieking at one another while 

Haven, Connecticut, is a long iron drawbridge feathers fly through the air. 
— the Tomlinson Bridge. On the highest Mr. Powers, who is a close observer, soon 

points of the middle of the span are two little discovered the cause of their strife. 


iron houses that cover the pieces to which the 
supporting cables are attached. These little 
houses are meant to be a protection against the 
rain, and in winter they are closed by a sort of 
iron door, removed only when the machinery is 

But in the spring, the engineer, Mr. Powers, 
takes away these small doors ; and then two 
couples of birds, a pair of martins and a pair of 
sparrows, build nests in these accidental bird- 
houses. Though for several years these birds 
have been neighbors, they are often at war, 

The drawbridge turns upon a pier to let ves- 
sels pass, and may be turned either half-way 
and then back to its first position, or completely 
around so as to change ends. 

Whenever the bridge is thus reversed, Mr. 
and Mrs. Sparrow, returning from an expedition 
in search of nest-building material, or from mar- 
keting, perhaps, will find, as they think, those 
meddling neighbors, the Martins, at work in the 
Spanv70s' home — for the turning of the bridge 
has brought the martins over to the neighbors' 




V / ■ 



Amazed by the sudden attack, the Martins 
there do their best to defend their home from 
those wicked Sparrows — and so the fight will be 
continued. As the two iron houses completely 
hide the nests, and are just alike, the sparrows 
and martins are continually at war whenever 
the bridge is turned so as to change its ends. 

As soon as he had found out the cause of the 
strife, Mr. Powers was careful to return the 
bridge always to the same position, and he 
found that the birds lived in peace and har- 
mony so long as he thus prevented them from 
confusing their nests. 

Occasionally, however, to test his theory or 
to illustrate it to some passing visitor, the engi- 
neer will reverse the position of the nests. The 
experiment never fails — a quarrel between the 
mutually angered birds was always the result. 

Mr. Powers says, also, that during the whole 
time he has been in charge of the bridge — 
seven years — the same comedy has been en- 
acted. The two sparrows alone are no match 

for the two martins, but they bring other spar- 
rows to help them, and then turn out the mar- 
tins in short order. 

The martins cannot find enough of their own 
kind to resist the confederated sparrows. 




Now let us have something 
stance, an account of 

more lively ; for in- 


This is the month of roses, my birds tell me, 
and, looking around at the happy crowd gathered 
here to-day, well may your Jack echo, "This is 
the month of roses ! " Bless me, I never saw 
anything rosier ! 

Well, what matters shall we take up to-day, my 
boys and girls of June ? Ah, here is 


The dear little Schoolma'am and Deacon Green 
sometimes talk of hypnotism. He says it is non- 
sense, but the little lady does not agree with him. 
She says that though it comes from an old Greek 
word signifying sleep, it represents a new and very 
wide-awake idea. Well, be that as it may, here 
comes a letter from England, direct to this Pulpit, 
telling of a hypnotized dog ; and the dog is not 
asleep, it seems. After reading the letter, I be- 
gin to think that / have seen something bearing 
upon this wide-awake sleep right here in my own 
meadow! It is the only thing that explains the 
way in which frogs sometimes sit and gaze at them- 
selves for hours in a puddle. They 're hypno- 
tized, that 's what it is — or else I am, from watch- 
ing them ! Well, here is the letter: 

London, England. 
Dear Jack-in-the-Pulpit: I thought you might 
like to hear about my hypnotized dog. He is a fox- 
terrier, and until he came to us he had lived in the coun- 
try, generally in a kennel, and had never seen a looking- 
glass. Well, the tiles at the side of one of the fireplaces 
in our home are dark green and highlv glazed, and 
" Rake " (the dog) can see himself plainly reflected in 
them. He goes and stands with his nose pressed to 
his reflection, until its fixed gaze hypnotizes him^ and he 
goes into a sort of trance. He stands there motionless 
sometimes for an hour at a time. Either lie thinks it 
is another dog, or he is held enthralled by the power of 
his own eye. 

Your always interested reader, D. M. G. 


"Dear Jack-in-the-Pulpit," writes Katie G. B., 
"the Philadelphia Record of to-day contains so 
interesting an account of bees stopping a vendue, 
or auction, that I have cut it from the paper for 
you, hoping you may decide to show it to the thou- 
sands of young folk who, like myself, delight in 
your monthly discourses." 

Here it is : 

Bristol, Pa., March 23. — Honey-bees proved more 
than a match for 200 men at a public sale yesterday. 
When the auctioneer put twenty-five hives of bees 
under the hammer, an inquisitive, but imprudent, youth 
kicked one of the little homes occupied by about 3000 
honey-makers. Instantly there was a warning buzz, 
and out filed the bees in companies, regiments, and bri- 
gades. The 200 men scattered in as many directions, 
pursued by the angry bees. Farmer James T. Vansant 
tried to pacify the army of little brown foes, but a few 
stings sent him flying after his retreating friends. For 
an hour the bees held the situation unopposed. They 
then gathered in their hives and the sale proceeded. 


I AM told, my hearers, that St. NICHOLAS in- 
tends to tell you all about racoons this month. 
Well, then, you will see the wisdom of my birds 
in bringing me this letter and picture from Mr. 
Meredith Nugent — a young man who takes my 
fancy because he studies animals and their habits, 
and notes all their comical ways : 

DEAR Jack: Far up on a hillside in the beau- 
tiful Adirondacks, little May spends most of the 
summer and fall. The house in which she lives 
for so many pleasant months, is situated in the 
midst of a true fairy-land. And nothing could be 
much more fairylike than May's own room. Here 
are wild flowers of all kinds, choice gatherings from 
the woods adorn the walls, and sweet clinging vines 
form a pretty framework for her gable window. 
From this window she can look over lovely Keene 
Valley across to Mount Porter, and away in the 
distance catch a glimpse of Mount Marcy, the high- 
est peak in the Adirondacks. May is very fond 
of pets, and by her gentle hands numbers of little 
animals have been cared for. These she finds 
in her back yard — if I may call it so; but it really 
is a delightful piece of woods back of the house. 
Just imagine having a garden where Mother Part- 
ridge trots about with her little chicks, where squir- 
rels and chipmunks are constantly playing pranks, 
where foxes may be often seen, and occasionally a 
deer. Here in these woods May spends most of 
her time, running about and enjoying herself until 
Whippoorwill sings out that night is near. 

I send you a drawing of one of her little pets. It 
is a baby racoon — " Coonie," as May called it. A 
funnier little fellow it would be hard to find, he was 
so lively and so playful. He always washed his 
food before eating it, and his paws he would wash 
both before and after eating. Washing was a great 



hobby of his, always, and a tin dish of water would 
make him perfectly happy. If he had not food to 
wash, he would collect pebbles and sticks and what- 
ever else he could bring to the pan of water, and 
give them all a thorough cleaning. Coonie was 
very fond of gentlemen; he would climb up to their 
shoulders and run all over them ; almost before they 
realized it he would have taken from their pockets 
a knife or money or some other thing, and have 
hidden it beyond all finding. The little racoon 
was delighted with toys, and for hours would play 
with a little doll. When Coonie and May played 
together, what a good time they did have, to be 
sure ! May would hold a broom to within a few 
inches of the ground, and Coonie would tightly cling 
to it, while May would swing the broom and sing 
" Rock-a-by Baby," and when she came to " Down 
went Baby, cradle and all ! " she would give the broom 
a quick little shake and Coonie would at once drop to 
the ground. Yours truly, Meredith Nugent. 


The little Schoolma'am asks who wrote this 
verse, — or a verse very like it? 

" Because of one dear childish head, 

With golden hair, 
To me all little heads 

A halo wear ; 
And for one saintly face I knew, 

All babes are fair." 


MANY of you, my hearers, have been interested 
in the good old riddle received from Edward T. B., 
and read from this pulpit in April last. Well, you, 
and especially E. T. B., may to-day learn the la- 
test news concerning it by consulting the St. 
Nicholas Letter-box, near by. 






By Caro A. Dugan. 

[St. Nicholas asks its young readers for correct solutions of these twenty-three Floral Enigmas. — Editor.] 

My first is like the little maids 

Of Puritan renown, 
Who patient sat through sermons long 

In good old Plymouth town ; 
My second grows in gardens fair, 

The feast and dance doth grace, 
Full many a secret hath been told 

Beneath its blushing face; 
And winged moths oft flutter where 
My whole doth make the evening fair. 

With shining leaves and berries red, 
My first doth hang above your head 

At closing of the year; 
My second comes from Germany, 
And on the table oft we see, 

It helps to make good cheer; 
My whole in stately ranks and tall 
Doth overlook the garden wall. 


My first is what our baby is 

Above a million others ; 
My second in seclusion lies 

With half a dozen brothers ; 
My whole, in dainty pink and white, 
Climbs ever upward toward the light. 

My first for each one of us 

Carpets the earth ; 
My second, in Scotchman's name, 

Tells of his birth ; 
My whole with rich color 

Warms forest and field, 
And oft to the artist 

True pleasure doth yield. 

My first would let the world go by 
While thinking on his clothes, 
Vol. XXI.— 94. 

He long before the mirror stands, 

A grain of dust he loathes ; 
A king my second oft is called, 

Although his royal right 
To wear that title has been won 

By dint of savage might; 
My whole — the lavish gold that Spring 

Flings all along her way — 
Gladly the little children seize 

To help them in their play. 

My first once roamed our forests 

A w r arrior fierce and bold ; 
And yet, sometimes, in sign of peace, 

My second he would hold; 
Pluck the fair whiteness of my whole, and lo ! 
Black with displeasure it full soon doth grow. 


My first is wrinkled and uncouth, 

A little garden friend; 
My second, when we weary stand, 

May some good fortune send ! 
My whole is found in leafy wood, 

In brown, white, scarlet clad, 
The fairies, when they give a tea, 

Of its support are glad. 


My first he ever hates and shuns 

Who loves the real and true; 
My second has to ocean grave 

Sent many *a ship and crew ; 
My whole, so tiny, green, and smart, 
Is loved by every Irish heart. 


My first all the little French babies must use 
In counting their fingers and toes; 

My second in combat doth often appear 
The weapon of friendliest foes ; 

My whole is a tiny bright flower that grows 

In field and by roadside, as every child knows. 




My first is the hue of a sunset cloud. 

The glow of a baby's hair, 
The apple that gave to a shepherd boy 

The hand of Helen the Fair; 
My second the weary traveler aids, 

'T is dreaded by many a boy ; 
My whole, in richest abundance, fills 

The autumn fields with joy. 

My first roams wild through tropic lands, 

In fearful beauty lithe and swift ; 
My second, in fair purity, 

Its lovely face to heaven doth lift ; 
Unite them and you have my whole, 

A gorgeous flower, of such deep dye, 
It seems astray from torrid climes 

Burning against our northern sky. 

My first is timid, swift, and light, 
Sometimes 't is brown, again 't is white; 
My second loudly calls for aid, 
When fire and flood make hearts afraid ; 
On rocky heights my ichole doth spring 
A lovely, fragile, fearless thing. 


My first, when good, as it should be. 

Is yellow, firm, and sweet ; 
Without my second, no one's tea 

Would ever be complete ; 
My whole so golden is and gay, 
It sunshine makes on darkest day. 

My first was believed in by parson and judge, 
And hanged on Gallows Hill ; 

Some eyes are my second, so full of soft light, 
Our own with rapture fill ; 

My whole in the hand of fortunate wight 

Doth tell of sweet waters hidden from sight. 

The bloom and fragrance of my first 

Is his who dares the thorn; 
My second o'er her graceful head 

A halo long hath worn ; 
My 7vhole doth sweet remembrance wake, 
We love it for Ophelia's sake. 

My first in English skies 

Doth soar and sing; 
My second — many a steed 

Has felt its sting ; 
My whole grows blue and tall 
By garden wall. 


Beneath the torn folds of my first 
Brave men have fought and died ; 

My second holds the giant oak 
Erect in stately pride ; 

Delve in wet meadows like a mole 

For spicy treasure of my whole. 


My first sent brave Siegfried 

To Valhalla's joys; 
My second holds plenty 

Of good "yellow boys"; 
My whole, the quaint nosegay 

Of Puritan maid, 
As spice to long sermons 

Served often, 't is said. 

My first beside the fire doth lie 

In absolute content ; 
My second oft by running streams 

Its slender boughs has bent; 
My whole, in furs of silv'ry gray, 
We meet on boisterous March day. 

My first are found in cloisters gray, 
My second drawn about their heads, 

My whole in sober purple stands 
Erect and grave in garden beds. 

My first rings out a summons that doth stir 

Men's hearts to visions of great glory won 
On battle-fields ; my second flings itself 

Along the roadside, laughing in the sun, 
And clasps all things in riotous embrace ; 

My whole has close-sealed buds, and when 
these burst 
A flood of rich, triumphant color comes 

To stir us like the challenge of my first. 




My first walks dewy meadows, 

And with her rosy fingers 
Opens the eyes of sleepy flowers 

As lovingly she lingers. 
My second 's a shining vision, 

Men risk their lives to win it, 
Yet often find, when in their grasp, 

No satisfaction in it. 
My whole climbs ever skyward, 

It loves the morning dew, 
Uplifting cups of purple, 

Fair pink, and white, and blue. 


My first is wholesome food 

For old and young ; 
My second is despised, 

Yet loved and sung; 
My whole beside the road, 

In purple guise, 
Gives audience to troops 

Of butterflies — 
She learns from them the art 

Of making wings, 
And sends her seeds abroad 

Fair flying things ! 


Oh ! a dear little dog is Don, 
With a dash of family pride, 
As sleek as satin to look upon, 
Frisky and glow-worm-eyed. 
He steps like a drummer-boy, 
Perking his head up high, 
And the cup of his pleasure brims to joy 
When Carroll comes with a cry ; 

For it 's " Rats ! " he says, " Rats ! Rats ! " he says. 
(Or it 's "Cats!" he says.) That 's 

When you should see Don ! 

He will play at hide-and-seek 

With the vim of a brisk north breeze, 
Or he '11 crouch all quiet and meek 

At a touch on the ivory keys. 
Cuddly, and warm, and round, 
He will lie like a velvet ball, 

But up he '11 leap with a bark and a bound 
At the sound of Carroll's call ; 

For it 's "Rats!" he says, "Rats! Rats!" he says; 
(Or it 's "Cats!" he says.) That's 

When you should see Don ! 

Clinton Scollard. 


Contributors are respectfully informed that between the ist of June and the 15th of September manuscripts cannot conveniently be 

examined at the office of St. Nicholas. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions 

will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date. 

Bradninch, Devon, England. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I thought you might like to 
hear from a little Devonshire girl. Devon is such a 
pretty county. We live close to Dartmoor, famous for 
its beauty. We are very fond of our pretty home. I 
have five brothers and sisters. The youngest is only 
three months old ; I love to take care of him. We have 
taken you for eight years. I am afraid I am making my 
letter too long, so I remain, 

Your affectionate reader, Helen R. H . 

Indianapolis, Ind. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I think more of your paper than 
of any other. I think that " Babette " is a splendid story. 
I happen to be a girl too ; but I don't know as I care much, 
for in the winter when there is any ice I skate, and in the 
summer I row a boat. I was out skating yesterday, and had 
a fine time ; I cut a star — I mean I fell clown once. I had 
afine time Christmas; I always do. I have eight cousins, 
eight aunts and uncles, and one grandmother, a mother 
and a father, and five brothers, all living here in Indian- 
apolis. On Christmas we all go to Grandma's and have 
a fine time. In the evening we have a Punch-and-Judy 
show and play blindman's-buff. My three elder bro- 
thers and uncles have a play ; they all dress up and paint 
up and then act. I am sorry for any boys or girls that 
have n't any relatives where they live. 

Mary D . 

Staten Island, New York. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I thought I should like to write 
to you, as I see the other little boys and girls are writing. 
I am twelve years old and have a brother ten, also a cousin 
of fourteen, who plays with us. We have built a little 
hut in the woods near our house. We go over there 
nights after school. 

Saturdays we have fine times, as we have all day to 
play ; we have an old stove in it, so we can make fire and 
keep ourselves w r arm. We can cook potatoes and make 
coffee ; then we all get around the table we made and have 
dinner. It is papered inside with pictures. Papa laughs 
at us and says he should think we would stay there all 
night, but we are always ready to get home when the 
sun goes down. Good-by. Yours truly, 

Chester A. C . 

Galveston, Texas. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I am ten years old and have 
three brothers and three sisters. I am the middle child. 
I live in a big stone house with a great big yard, and I 
have such a good time. 

My uncle built a big hospital, — by that I mean he gave 
the money to build it, — and in our stable there is a large 
room where fifty-two children come every Saturday and 
sew. Every month each child pays twenty-five cents ; 
now we have made enough money to buy a ward for chil- 
dren, and we bought beds and everything to furnish it, 
and every year we pay one hundred dollars for a trained 

nurse. We do a great deal for those children, and next 
door to the hospital there is a place where men and wo- 
men are taught to be doctors and trained nurses. My 
uncle was my papa's brother, and he died before the hos- 
pital was finished, so Papa finished it. My eldest sister 
is seventeen, and she is the president of the society. 
That there are many little girls who are interested in 
such work is the wish of Caroline S . 

Washington, D. C. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I am a little girl eleven years 
old, and I enjoy you greatly. Last year I lived in a large 
country-place of seventy acres. I had always lived there, 
and when I was five or six years old I had a little Shet- 
land pony. She was very gentle and also very popular 
with all my friends. Sometimes we would let her run 
loose in the place, and at the servants' dinner-hour she 
would come to the house, walk into the kitchen, and get 
a lump of sugar or a piece of bread from every one in 
turn. Once she even went so far as to steal a loaf of 
bread and eat it. Your interested reader, J. Y. B . 

Dresden, Saxony. 

Dear St. Nicholas : We have taken you for nearly 
ten years, but in all that time I have never written to 
you. My sister did once, and her letter was printed, so 
I hope mine will be interesting enough to be printed too. 

We are Americans, and although we have been living 
abroad for four years we have not forgotten our father- 
land by any means. The first winter we were in Europe 
we were in an English school at Neuilly-sur-Seine, a 
suburb of Paris. The house itself had once been the 
chateau of the Due d'Orleans. All Neuilly was then only 
a park, but later on it became a suburb of Paris. The 
house was a very interesting one. There were ever so 
many doors which led to secret passages that were 
sealed up, and ghost-stories were told about nearly all 
of them. In the garden there were two statues, one of 
a sphinx, and the other of the Virgin ; both were just 
above two secret underground passages, one of which 
led to the palace at Versailles, and the other to the 
palace in the Tuileries ; but of course when the house 
was sold the passages were sealed up. During the 
Franco-Prussian war the Prussian soldiers established 
themselves there, and they put their horses in the room 
which is now the dining-room. The horses kicked such 
big holes into the walls of the room that one can still see 
the traces of them. Altogether, it was a very interesting 
old house, but as it was quite near the Seine it was very 
damp, and so we did not stay there long, but went to a 
French convent in Paris. We were in that beautiful 
city three years, and from there we came here to Dresden, 
for music and German. Of course, this city seemed very 
small to us after Paris, but we are very fond of it all the 
same. The opera is one of our favorite amusements, it 
being exceptionally fine. The picture-gallery is lovely 
too. They have the "Sistine Madonna" here, and it is 
ever so much more beautiful than any of the engravings 
or the many copies one sees of it. 




Something very funny happened the first time we saw 
it, which I must tell you. The picture is placed in a 
room all alone, and there are always a great many people 
in there. It is just like being in a chapel, as every one 
speaks in a whisper. The first time we were there, 
there was an artist copying the picture. The copy was 
not a very good one, the colors being much too vivid. 
Next to us stood a little American boy of about thirteen, 
with his mother and sister. His mother was saying how 
beautiful the Madonna was, when the little boy turned 
round and said, " Well, I like the little one the man is 
painting. It is ever so much prettier than the big one ! " 

I imagine the artist would have been flattered if he had 
heard the praise. 

With many good wishes for the prosperity of dear St. 
Nicholas, I am ever your constant reader, 

Ethel H. J . 

San Jose, Costa Rica, Central America. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have had you only four 
months, but I like you very much. I see that you get let- 
ters from all over the world, but not any from Costa Rica. 
It is a lovely country ; we never have snow here as you 
have; only rain six months, and six months hot spring 
weather. This summer we went to a place called Agua 
Caliente, and enjoyed it very much; and every Sunday, 
when Papa was to come, I would anxiously wait for St. 
Nicholas. There is just by the side of the hotel a 
river named Revintazon, and on the other side some 
mountains. San Jos6 is in a valley, and is the capital of 
the republic. I have a little sister eight and a half years 
old, and we both go to school at the college ; my sister's 
name is Florence, and she cannot read, for she mixes 
German, English, and Spanish. We both were born 
here, but Papa and Mama are foreigners. In the country 
we caught fish in the river. I am eleven years old, and 
I hope this will be printed. Now good-by. 

From your reader, Lilly M. de J . 

New York. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I am a little girl ten years old, 
and Murphy is my kitten. 

Murphy and I would like it very much if you would 
put this little account of him in the " Letter-box." 

This story is quite true. I am learning to write on 
the type-writer. Your devoted reader, 

Gladys C . 

Our Cat. 

I want to tell you about our cat, for I have read a 
great many stories in St. Nicholas about them. 

I will begin by saying he is a pretty black-and-white 
kitten; and his name — well, I don't think you can guess 
his name : it is Minerva Murphy. 

He is very curious, so he is sometimes called Curiosity. 

The first adventure he had was with the dumb-waiter. 
Murphy had jumped on the dumb-waiter to be taken up- 
stairs, when I called "Murphy! " All at once I heard 
the most dreadful yell, and we found that when the 
dumb-waiter had come up to the ceiling it had squeezed 
his head. 

At first we thought he was dead. After a while he 
began to fly around as if he were crazy ; but he quieted 
down all right. 

His next adventure was with a ladder. He had been 
jumping on and off it. 

We heard a crash and a howl, and Murphy came out 
dragging his leg behind him. We thought he had 
broken his leg, but in about a week he was all right. 

We have had him about two months now, and he has 
gotten his head shut in a door, his foot caught in a hole, 
has been sat on, has run away twice — once to the house 
next door and once around the corner. And he has been 
nearly eaten up by a big cat. 

These are all Murphy's adventures up to this time. 

Gladys C . 


By Jessie Macmillan Anderson. 

There used to be a holly season 
When for that very jolly reason 
Johnny's drum would boom ! boom ! boom ! — quite deafen- 
ing to hear ; 
While Grandpa, smiling round about, 
Would laugh at Grandma, quite put out, 
And say, " You must remember Christmas comes but 
once a year ! " 

But now St. Nicholas has quite forgotten to be coy, 
And comes just once a month to each subscriber — girl 
or boy ! 

Boston, Mass. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have a very curious pet : a 
chameleon that we are all very fond of. I have kept it 
nearly six months, and as so many children have them 
this year I think they might like to know how to keep 
them. If a chameleon is in perfect condition he will 
shed his skin once every few months. During this time 
he should be kept perfectly quiet and warm. It is a 
good plan to get the dead moss on trees for it to sleep 
in. If this cannot be had, some cotton and rotten baik 
should be placed in the box. In feeding it water, put 
your finger in the water until perfectly wet, then drop 
a little on its nose. A small, low dish of water should 
always be put in the box. If the chameleon is hungry, 
he will eat from your hand, but some sugar and very 
small bits of raw meat should be left with him. They 
should be allowed a good deal of freedom, and soon 
become very tame, even coming when called by name. 
Put them on green planks if possible. An ordinary 
chameleon will not change to very bright colors, only a 
reddish brown, bright green, or black. 

Viola L . 

Waterloo, Oregon. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I am a little boy ten years old ; 
I have no sisters or brothers, and all the companions I 
have is the St. Nicholas, another young folks' paper, 
and a shepherd dog; I believe I like the St. Nicholas 
the best of all. I go to school in summer-time, but in 
winter it rains too much. I live on a farm with my 
mother and father, grandma and grandpa, one mile from 
school, and a mile and a half from Waterloo Soda Springs, 
a summer resort. I have been helping Father burn down 
fir-trees; I think it great fun. I am as glad as the birds 
when spring comes. I gather flowers and press them for 
specimens. I am saving up canceled stamps ; I have 
nearly six hundred. I want to tell you about a little trip 
down to Portland with my mother. We took a ride down 
the Columbia River, seventy-five miles, on the steamer 
" Sarah Dixon," last fall, the first time I ever was on a 
steamer. If this does not find the waste-basket I will be 
happy ; this is my first letter for a paper. 

Your interested reader, Jesse A . 



The Little Schoolma'am requests us to say that 
Jack-in-the-Pulpit has received many bright answers to 
Lord Macaulay's riddle, sent in by Edward T. B., and 
printed in the April St. Nicholas. 

F. M. A., of Hampton, Virginia, sends perhaps the 
best answer, for she has put it into verse. Here is her 
solution : 

Answer to the Enigma by Lord Macaulav. 

"Cut off my head," and "odd'' I "d surely be; 
Tailless, I stand a goodly company ; 
Both head and tail remove and I am naught — 
As round an " O " as e'er a child was taught, 
Who, seeking on his map the River Dee, 
Should dare to say, "It flows into the C. " 
In this same sea floats, mute, that useful fish, 
Whose sounds are found in many a dainty dish, 
Its name I give you now, in letters three, 
On second thoughts, I 11 send it — C. O. D. 

To make this answer complete, the author adds a note 
explaining that in Macaulay's line, " Parent of sweetest 
sounds yet mute forever," the word sounds means the 
air-bladders of the codfish — which are used in making 
gelatine, and are also eaten boiled, being thought a deli- 
cacy. Hence (as another correspondent, " K. A. S.," 
says) they are " Edible, not audible, sounds! " 

Correct answers to the riddle have been received also 
from the boys and gids named in the following list : 

M. A. C, William W 
cox, Walter Powers, C 
Taylor N. M.,V. L. S., 
beth B. Foster, Jane 
Philadelphia," M. R. J 
Spaith, M. Locke, Dick 
A. S., Elizabeth Flint W 
Stone, " Box 293, Salem 
C. W. (who says he is ' 
brought down himself" 
grown-up), K. A. S., 
another versified answer, 
be original), Lawrence 
to add two lines to the 

Barrow, F. W. G., M. A. Wil- 
T. Allison, W. T. Blatchley, 
Mary Hazen Finn, Mrs. Eliza- 
Staiathomb," " The Lady from 
. E., Jessie S. C, Harriet R. 
Clarke, Rupert S. Johnson, K. 
ade, Claudice Luther, Emma F. 
, Mass.," Letitia D. M., John 
' a boy who went gunning, and 
!) Crawford W. (an interested 
Margaret H. B. (who sends 
, — a good one, — not claimed to 
E. W. (who jokingly proposes 
riddle : 

" Cut into parts, I am and e'er shall be 
The dread of empty pockets — C. O. D. "), 

" An Old Reader," M. E. P., M. L. T., Bertha S., Elea- 
nour M. D., M. R. A. (who says she has a copy of the 
riddle, given her by a friend of Macaulay, in which 
the next to last line reads, "Beneath whose mighty 
depths — " instead of, "And in their mighty depths "), 
Alice M. W., " A Curious Reader " (whom we thank for 
her letter and the lines she sends), M. M. K., Henry 
B., " Grade" (whose rhyming answer is very well done), 
Anna L. C, Donald R., J. R., D. B. W. (another 
grown-up), W. F. McC, and H. W. B. (who sends a 
long and clever prose answer, for which we cannot find 
space), F. Pember, M. L. F., I. J. W., V. G. G., M. G. ( 
L. E. W., L. McE. M., M. C. S., J. C. H., A. C. H. 
(who sends a clever rhyming answer), H. G. W., }. H. 
E., R. H. A. 


By Oliver Herford. 

Said a Lady who wore a swell 

As she viewed a Rhinoceros 

" To think in this age 
A Beast in a cage 
Is permitted our fashions to 
ape ! " 

Thought the Beast in the cage, 

" I declare, 
One would think that these 
Ladies so fair 

Who come to the 2oo 
Have nothing to do' 
But copy the things that I 



Illustrated Diagonal. Swift. 
4. Shaft. 5. Joint. Charade. 

[. Screw. 2. Sword. 3. Coins. 
Mis tie-toe. 

Double Acrostic. Primals, Comrades ; finals, Memorial. Cross 
words: 1. Chasm. 2. Obese. 3. Madam. 4. Romeo. 5. Aster. 
6. Delhi. 7. Extra. 8. Sepal. 

Diamond, i. P. 2. Rat. 3. Rabid. 4. Pabulum. 5. Tiled. 

6. Dud. 7. M. Cross-word Enigma. Francis Drake. 

Numerical Enigma. 

May has come in, — young May, the beautiful, 
Weaving the sweetest chaplet of the year. 
Double Octagon. Across : 1. Rag. 2. Hares. 3. 

4. Yeast. 5. Dye. 
St. Andrew's Cross of Diamonds: I. 1. A. 2. End. 

gel. 4. Dew. 5. L. II. 1. L. 2. Tatj. 3. Latei 

III. 1. L. 2. Wig. 3. Liver. 4. Get. 5. R. IV. 1. L 

3. Layer. 4. Get. 5. R. V. 1. R. 2. Tan. 3. Rater. 

5. R- 
Word-square, i. Fusil. 2. Uzema. 3. Sedan. 4. Image 


3. An- 
4. Gem. 5. R. 

2. Wag. 
4. New. 

. Lanes. 

Primal Acrostic. Robert Bruce. Cross-words : 1. Risks. 
2. Onion. 3. Brace. 4. Enact. 5. Rogue. 6. Tiara. 7. Bleak. 
8. Ruble. 9. Unite. 10. Cobra. 11. Enemy. 

Pi. Not the word, but the soul of the thing! 

Not the name, but the spirit of spring! 
And so, at morning early, 
Through hedgerows fresh and pearly, 
Bedecked with hawthorn branches 
And apple blossoms gay, 
Her golden hair around her, 
As if some god had crowned her, 
Across the dewy woodland 
Comes dancing in the May. 
Triple Acrostic. From 1 to 8, Honolulu; 9 to 16, Maunaloa; 
17 to 24, Sandwich. Cross-words: From 1 to 9, Hiram; 2 to 10 
opera; 3 to 11, neveu ; 4 to 12, ocean; 5 to 13, llama; 6 to 14, 
usual; 7 to 15, lasso; 8 to 16, Utica; 9 to 17, Moses; 10 to 18, 
alpha; 11 to 19, urban; 12 to 20, nomad; 13 to 21, arrow; 14 to 22, 
Lummi ; 15 to 23, optic ; 16 to 24, Allah. 

To OUR Puzzlers : Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and should 
be addressed to St. Nicholas " Riddle-box," care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the March Number were received, before March 15th, from G. B. Dyer — " M. McG." — Paul 
Reese — L. O. E. — Josephine Sherwood — "June and Co." — Jo and I — "Maine and Minnesota" — W. L. — Helen C. McCIeary — 
" Illinois " — Eddie N. Moore — Ida Carleton Thallon — " The Wise Five " — Aunt Kate, Mama, and Jamie— Arthur G. Lewis — Louise 
Ingham Adams — Harry and Helene — No Name, Philadelphia — " Leather Stocking" — Jessie Chapman and John A. Fletcher — " Uncle 

Answers to Puzzles in the March Number were received, before March 15th, from Champlin Butts, 1 — " Columbine and Mari- 
gold," 6 — T. G. Thomas, Jr., 1 — No Name, Owego, 3 — " Cherry Ripe," 3 — Arthur Le Grand, 4 — Rodney Proctor, 2 — Carrie Ches- 
ter, 1 — "Miss Beaver," 1 — Jean M. Rushmore, 1 — Francis W. Honeycutt, 1 — Elaine S., 2 — " Two Athenians," 6 — Jennie C. Vree- 
land, S — F. G. Hinsdale, 1 — L. H. K., 3 — "Uncas," 10 — Anna Julia Johnson, 3 — Ida F. Wildey, 4 — Rose Sydney, 5 — Elsie 
RatclifFe Caperton, 3 — Florence Cowles, 1 — Elizabeth L. Foley, 1 — Jessie H. Colrode, 1 — Annie Williams, 1 — Emma Schmitt, 3 — 
Lulu Campbell, 3 — Bertha N., 4 — Bessie Dane, 1 — "The Three Wise Women," 9 — Max, Stella, and Elsa, 3 — Leonora and Wil- 
marth, 2 — Alma Steiner, 3 — " Mignon," 3 — Lucia C. Robotham, 2 — Charlie Corse, 6 — " Mama," 9 — W. Kidds, 1 — Gaston and 
Rob, 1 — Meta E. Mencke, 2 — Louisa E. Jones, 5 — M. T. , 2 — M. F. Lawton, 2 — Bessie Brush, 2 — Blanche and I, 4 — Margaret D. 
Buckingham, 1 — Little Don, 5 — Daisy Gorham, 3 — Harold A. Fisher, 3 — L. F. Craig, 3 — Margaret Kahl, 3 — H. M. Landgraff, 3 — 
K. G. S., 2 — Allison McKibbin, 6 — Effie K. Talboys, 6 — Helen Rogers, 10 — Eleanor Barras, 6 — Grace Salmon, 2 — Geo. S. Sey- 
mour, 8 — "We Girls," 7 — Estelle and Clarendon, 4 — "The Jaberwock, Lady Clare, and The Duchess," 10 — Bessie and Eva, 8 — Alice 
Mildred Blanke and Co., 11 — "Will O. Tree," 9 — "The Clever Two," 7 — Rose and Violet, 3 — Jeannette and Gertrude Brown, 2 — 
Edith H. Smith, 4— Hubert L. Bingay, 9 — Walter Haight, n— "Three Blind Mice," 5 — A. D. Talbot, 9 — Laura M. Zinser, ?_ — 
"Sunnyside," 10 — Mamie C. and Bessie W., 9 — "Jinx and Ray," 8 — Mama and Charlie, 7 — Helen and Bessie, 6 — Katharine 
Parmly, 1 — Ruth M. Mason, 1. 

WORD-SQUARE. take away. 5. The lowest degree of honor that is heredi- 

tary. 6. A kind of ant, abundant in tropical countries, 
1. A sambo. 2. Audibly. 3. A large quadruped. 4. an d noted for its destructive habits. 7. To twine around. 
A. statue. 5. A kind of theater in ancient Greece. 8. Earnest. 9. Pekans. 10. To separate. 



Raif dan geren si het sharm -ni unje ; 
Dwie dan wram si eht snyun nono. 
Het shures grifen het loop 
Whit drenels swodsha, mid dan loco. 
Romf eht wol shebus "bbo twihe " slalc; 
Toni shi snet a lorefase slafl, 
Het glubfiea defas ; dan ghrouth het hate, 
Raf fof, eht sae's fanit slupse tabe. 


A title often applied to Hippocrates : 




ALL the words described contain the same number of 
letters. When rightly guessed, and placed one below 
the other, the central letters will spell the name of a 
character in the Tliad. 

Cross-words : i. A pattern of excellence or perfec- 
tion. 2. The close of the day. 3. Screening. 4. To 

I. Upper Square: i. A burden. 2. At one time. 
3. A continued pain. 4. An exploit. 

II. Middle Square: i. To observe. 2. A whirl- 
pool. 3. To move sideways. 4. Colored. 

III. Lower Square: i. Precious stones. 2. To 
prepare for publication. 3. A transparent mineral. 4. To 
tarry. H. W. E. 







A b*r*t *h*l* d*e*d* t*e *i*e. 

E*o*g* i* a* g*o* a* a *e*s*. 

A *r*e*d *n *e*d *s * f*i*n* i*d*e*. 

T*o *a*y *o*k* s*o*l *h* b*o*h. "calamus 


Example : Take half of a costly metal, and two thirds 
of a public house, and form a word meaning to control. 
Answer, go-Id, ta-vern ; govern. 

1. Take half of a part of a gun, and half of a 
depression between hills, and make a kind 
of grain. 

2. Take half of one of the months, 
and half of imperfect, and make some 
thing new. 

3. Take half of to give up, and two 
thirds of skilful, and make always. 

4. Take half of magnificent, and 
half of plainly, and make to pro- 

5. Take half of a beautiful com- 
bination of metals, and half of to ex- 
clude the light, and make shattered. 

H. W. E. 


The problem is to change 
one given word to another 
given word, by altering 
one letter at a time, each 
alteration making a new 
word, the number of let- 
ters being always the 
same, and the letters re- 
maining always in the same 
order. Example : Change 
lamp to fire in four moves. 
Answer: lamp, lame, fame, 
fare, fire. 

In the accompany- 
ing picture, change 
bird to cage in 
four moves. Then 
change BIRD to 
nest in six moves. 
Each change 
is shown in 
the illus- 

of enormous length and volume. 5. A river of Wis- 
consin. 6. A river of South Carolina. 7. A river of 
Mexico. 8. A large river of Asia. 9. A river of Texas. 
10. A river of Eastern Asia. 11. A river of Africa. 
12. A river of Europe, emptying into the Mediterra- 
nean. 13. A river of China. 14. A river of Southern 
Asia. 15. A great river of Western Africa. 16. A river 
of Spain. e. W. W. 


All of the words described contain the 
same number of letters. When rightly 
guessed, and placed one below another, 
in the order here given, the zigzag, 
beginning at the upper left-hand 
corner, will spell a famous event 
which occurred on June 28, over 
fifty years ago. 

Cross-words : i. To stuff. 2. A 
monk's hood. 3. To divide into 
two or more branches. 4. The 
lowest point. 5. Hypocrisy. 6. 
A venomous tooth of a serpent. 
7. A ponderous volume. 8. 
A small animal valued for 
its fur. 9. A stain. 10. 
To keep clear of. 11. 
The god of love. 12. At 
a distance. 13. To 
leave. 14. To be in 
a rage. 15. A Nor- 
wegian snow-shoe. 
6. To be diminished. 
17. One of a series 
of berths placed 
in tiers. 18. A 
popular Roman 
poet, the author of 
" Metamorphoses." 
19. The goddess of 
the rainbow. 20. Tart. 
21. A very small quan- 
tity or degree. 22. The 
eminent Roman patriot 
who said, " Carthage 
must be destroyed ! " 
23. A jolly time. 
24. The most cele- 
brated river of the 
ancient world. 
25. Parched 
with heat, 
c. B. 



When the names of the following rivers have been 
rightly guessed, and placed one below another, the initials 
will spell a name sometimes given to the Hudson River. 

Cross-words : 1. A river of Italy. 2. A river of 
Massachusetts. 3. A river of Germany. 4. A river 

My central letters, reading downward, spell a name 
given to the northern portion of Africa. 

Cross-words: i. Cross and cynical. 2. Low, vulgar 
language. 3. Skill. 4. In barbarous. 5. Part of a lo- 
comotive. 6. A low style of comedy. 7. Actors. 




Vol. XXI. 

JULY, 1894. 

Copyright, 1894, by The Century Co. All rights reserved. 

No. 9. 


By William R. Thayer. 

Oh, it 's twenty gallant gentlemen, 

Rode out to hunt the deer, 
With mirth upon the silver horn 

And gleam upon the spear; 
They gallop'd thro' the meadow-grass, 

They sought the forest's gloom, 
And loudest rang Sir Morven's laugh, 
And lightest tost his plume. 

There 's no delight, by day or night, 

Like hunting in the morn; 
So busk ye, gallant gentlemen, 
And sound the silver horn ! 

They rode into the dark greenwood, 

By ferny dell and glade, 
And now and then upon their cloaks 

The summer sunshine played. 
They heard the timid forest birds 

Break off amid their glee, 

They saw the startled leveret, 

But no stag did they see. 

Wind, wind the horn on summer morn ! 

Tho' ne'er a buck appear, 
There 's health for horse and gentlemen 
A-following the deer. 




They panted up Ben Lomond's side, 

Where thick the leafage grew, 
And when they bent the branches back 

The sunbeams darted through ; 
Sir Morven in his saddle turn'd 

And to his comrades spake, 

Now quiet ! we shall find a stag 

Beside the Brownies' Lake." 

Then sound not on the bugle horn 
Bend bush, and do not 
Lest ye should start the 
fleet-foot hart 
A-drinking at the 








Now they have reach'd the 
Brownies' Lake — 
A blue eye in the wood — 
And on its brink a moment's space 

All motionless they stood. 
Then suddenly the silence broke 
With twenty bowstrings' twang. 
And hurtling thro' the drowsy 
Their feather'd arrows rang. 
— Then let the silver note 
Across the forest cool ; 
Sir Morven's dart hath slain 
the hart 
Beside the Brownies' 
Pool ! 

When shadows seal the forest up 
And o'er the meadows fall, 

Those twenty gallant gentlemen 
Come riding to the Hall ; 


With gleam of torch and merry shout 

They crowd the courtyard then, 
To lift from Morven's saddle-bow 
A royal stag of ten. 

Oh, lay aside the trusty spear, 

And lay aside the horn ! 
To-night we '11 feast upon the deer, 
And hunt another morn. 



By Alice Balch Abbot. 

The front door banged, an umbrella fell 
into the stand with a sharp click, and a boy's 
voice shouted : 

" Hello ! " 

" In here," came the answer from behind the 
portieres, and Bob Merrifield walked into his 
uncle's library, to find his cousin Nan seated 
comfortably on the floor in front of the low 

A saucy lifting of the eyebrows was her 
greeting, followed by the question : 

" To what am I indebted for the honor of 
this call ? " 

" Oh ! it was a rather wet afternoon, and I 
did n't have a good book, and Jack 's gone to 
the city," was the answer, given with the usual 
politeness of fifteen-year-old cousins. 

" And you thought I might serve to amuse 
you under such circumstances ? Much obliged, 

I am sure ; but as long as you are here you 
can make yourself useful. We have to find 
an example of oratorical climax for Monday's 
Rhetoric, and Miss Bird told me to look in 
Patrick Henry's speeches. Just hunt it up for 
me, will you ? " and Nan* handed him the vol- 
ume over which she had been bending. 

Bob turned the pages slowly, then with — 
" Here you are, I guess," read a portion of 
the famous appeal to arms. Beginning with, 
" There is no retreat but in submission and 
slavery," he grew more and more earnest, till at 
the last well-known words, " Give me liberty, 
or give me death," his voice rose to a ring of 
enthusiasm that caused the audience of one to 
clap heartily from her seat on the arm of the 

With a rather sheepish look, Bob tossed the 
book upon a chair near by, saying : 



" One cannot read such words without roar- 
ing. Is that the speech you wanted ? " 

" Yes, I think so," answered Nan ; " but you 
need n't be ashamed of the ' roaring,' as you 
call it. I am sure I wish you would speak it 
that way in school." 

" Could n't do it, Miss Merrifield. Imagine 
your humble servant committing prose, when 
verses nearly use him up. Why, it would take 
a whole afternoon to learn enough of that to 
make a show." 

" Well, I think it would pay better than 
some of the things you boys recite. I am so 
tired of ' Abou Ben Adhem ' and ' Marco Boz- 
zaris'; as for dear ' Horatius,' I sometimes wish he 
had been nicely drowned in his beloved Father 
Tiber, ' with all his harness on his back.' I tell 
you, if I were a boy, I would just set to work 
and learn some of those grand prose things, if" 
— and a scornful gleam shown in Nan's brown 
eyes — " if it did ' take a whole afternoon ' ! " 

" The only chance I ever had," she went on, 
" was when Miss Jackson had us commit the 
first and last clauses of the Declaration. Do 
you remember ? " 

•' I should think I did," was Bob's reply ; 
" and fine work some of you girls made of it. 
Was n't it a lark to hear Lily Ames recite with 
that pretty little lisp, ' our liveth, our for- 
tuneth, and our thacred honor ' ? " 

Both cousins laughed heartily at the recol- 

" By the by," said Nan, " our turn to speak 
comes in two weeks. Have you chosen your 
piece ? " 

" Yes, and I have a fine one for you, too. 
Do you know ' The' Jackdaw of Rheims ' ? 
Where 's the poetry encyclopedia ? " 

Nan brought it from the table, and both 
heads bent eagerly over the index. 

" ' Barbauld,' 'Barbour,' 'Barham,' page 
three-fifty-six, — here it is!" Then for five 
minutes there was no sound but the beating of 
the raindrops as the cousins read the bright 
poem in silence. 

" It 's just splendid ! " exclaimed Nan, as she 
finished ; " but don't you want it for yourself? " 

"Too long by half; besides, I hate those 
wiggling verses. Give me nice, respectable 
four-liners, with two rhymes to a stanza." 


" You lazy creature ! What is your choice 
this time ? " 

"Goldsmith's 'Mad Dog'; know it? It 's 
just my style; not very long, and you can't tell 
whether it 's meant to be sad or comical. It 
will be great fun watching the folks' faces. 
You just wait till you see the solemnity with 
which I shall declaim — 

The man recovered from the bite, 
The dog it was that died ! " 

" Why, do you know it already ? " questioned 
Nan, in surprise. 

" Almost. Some one gave it to Baby Nell 
in a picture-book, and she kept me reading it to 
her till I could n't help learning it by heart." 

Nan burst into an irrepressible laugh. 

" You certainly are the most labor-saving in- 
dividual, Bob Merrifield ; but all the same I 
am ever so much obliged for The Jackdaw. 
It 's exactly what I like ; it is funny, but not 

" I thought it would suit, and I guess you '11 
do it all right, for you are pretty good at that 
sort of thing, if you are my cousin." 

" Much obliged for the compliment, and I '11 
return it, only I cannot help wishing that you 
would try Patrick Henry." 

" I will leave him for you, this time ; but 
there ! — Jack's train is due, and I must go. If 
you take The Jackdaw, be sure to get him up 
in fine style. I '11 promise to start the ap- 
plause." And with a farewell pull of his 
cousin's long braids, Bob departed as sud- 
denly as he had come. 

Left to herself, Nan proceeded to read her 
chosen piece aloud. 

" It 's the best I have had in two years. I 
know just what gestures to make, and I '11 
wear my new red dress." There she paused 
and smiled to herself, for somehow the pros- 
pect was very pleasing. 

Nan Merrifield was not exactly vain of her 
gift for recitation ; but who does not take 
pleasure in the consciousness of doing a thing 
acceptably ? 

It was only that morning that one of her 
friends had said : 

" I am so glad we are coming to the middle 
of the alphabet. It is such a relief when it is 



time for you two Merrifields, for you always 
have such nice, funny pieces." 

It was of these words that Nan was think- 
ing when the clock, striking six, reminded her 
that dinner would be in half an hour. She 
picked up the volume of speeches, and her 
eyes fell again on Patrick Henry's famous 

" How I wish I could do it ! " she sighed, 
and then proceeded to read the speech through 
with her finest em- 
phasis ; but the re- 
sult was anything 
but satisfactory, and 
she closed the book 
with an exclamation 
of disgust. " No, it 
needs the ' roaring,' 
as Bob said ; but 
I do wish there was 
some great, quiet 
thing that I could 
learn and speak, for 
I am getting tired 
of doing just funny 
things ; besides," — 
as she pushed the 
book into its place 
with a vindictive 
slap, — " I should like 
one chance to shame 
those lazy boys." 

Turning the new 
notion over in her 
mind, she went 
slowly up-stairs to 
prepare for dinner. Twenty minutes later, in 
all the bravery of a new dress, she danced 
down the staircase and paused with a low 
courtesy before the hall mirror. The scarlet 
and black image, with its rosy cheeks, dancing 
brown eyes, and long flying braids mocked 
her. The idea of that figure attempting any- 
thing serious was ridiculous, and with her head 
at its sauciest angle, Nan recited : 

And the Abbot declared that, "when nobody twigged it, 
Some rascal or other had popped in and prigged it! " 

Those two lines of her prospective piece had 
greatly tickled Nan's fancy, for, fifteen-year-old 


girl that she was, she loved fun as heartily as 
any boy that ever lived. 

With scarcely a pause after the last word, she 
raised one arm upward, then, pushing her other 
hand inside the jacket-front of her black-velvet 
zouave, she proceeded to declaim : " ' Give me 
liberty or give me — '" but just there the ban- 
gles on her upraised wrist slipped down with 
a silvery ring ; the contrast between that very 
feminine sound and the words she was recit- 
ing was too much 
for Nan's dignity, 
and the speech end- 
ed in a merry laugh. 
As she turned 
from the mirror, she 
caught sight of a 
figure standing in 
the shadow of the 
staircase. With a 
cry of joy she dashed 

'• Brother Jim ! I 
am so glad you 
have come. We 
did not expect you 
till to-morrow." 

And some one 
else was glad too, 
if the close clasp 
in which the lit- 
tle sister was held 
meant anything. 
But there was a ro- 
guish twinkle in the 
brother's eyes as he 
hung up his coat and remarked : 

" Would you kindly inform me what wonder- 
ful composition you were declaiming just now ? 
It struck me as a most remarkable mixture of 
slang and solemnity." 
Nan laughed. 

" I '11 tell you all about it after dinner. 1 
want a serious talk with you, too, on a serious 
subject, as soon as possible." 

" As serious as you like, little woman. I 
have an engagement at eight-thirty; but the 
time between that and dinner is at your dis- 
posal " ; and young Mr. Merrifield went up- 
stairs for his mother's welcome. 




In that last reply of his, lies the key to 
Nan's ardent love for her only brother. 

" Why, yes; he teases me of course," she 
would answer, when questioned as to that in- 
herent quality of the fraternal class. " But, 
somehow, it is always when I don't mind, and 
when I want him to be serious, he is." 

It was to " Brother Jim " that she brought 
her difficult problems for explanation. It was 
he who heard her history-lessons, and drew 
such interesting plans of those dreadful Civil 
War campaigns that she could actually remem- 
ber that Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville 
were on the same side of the Rappahannock. 
It was Brother Jim who had concocted such a 
famous scheme for learning the Latin conjuga- 
tions, and it was on the arm of this same 
brother's chair that Nan took her seat after 
dinner and told her new idea, ending with the 
question : 

" Do you think it is silly ? " 

" Silly ? No," and her brother stroked his 
mustache, thoughtfully. " On the whole, I 
think it would be most sensible- if it could be 
carried out, for of course a failure would never 
do. You would need a certain kind of a 
speech. Are your desires particularly set on 
Patrick Henry ? " 

" Oh, no ; I thought perhaps you would 
know something that would not need so much 

" Well, let me see, there 's Webster's famous 
speech, with the Massachusetts part and the 
Union ending. How would you like one of 
those selections ? " and her brother laid an 
open book before Nan's eager eyes. 

She read the two extracts, slowly. 

" Yes, they are very grand-sounding ; but I 
should have to keep thinking what the long 
words meant, — besides, they are only parts. 
Did n't any one ever write a short, great 
speech, that I could understand right off?" 
asked Nan, with a beseeching tone in her ear- 
nest voice. 

A short, great speech that she could under- 
stand ? To one familiar with his country's ora- 
tory, there was little question where to find 
a composition answering to that description. 
Opening the book again, Mr. Merrifield said : 

" There are two : Lincoln's second inaugural 

and his Gettysburg address. Read them care- 
fully "; and he took up the evening paper. But 
he found the stock-quotations decidedly dull 
when compared with the intent young face 
beside him. 

First she read the inaugural; then, turning the 
leaf, she began the immortal speech. Twice 
the brown eyes traveled over the short page ; 
then lifting a fiice glowing with suppressed 
feeling, she asked : 

'• Do you really think that I could say this 
without hurting it ? " 

Her brother smiled at the anxious tone, then 
said reassuringly : 

" Yes, indeed; I don't see why not. All you 
need do is to recite in such a way that the au- 
dience will forget all about you, and think only 
of the words you are saying, and the thoughts 
they stand for. That does not seem very dif- 
ficult, and yet, as we have but two weeks, you 
will have to work hard." 

'• I don't mind the hard work, if you '11 only 
tell me how," exclaimed Nan, all eagerness to 

" First comes the committing. To do that 
well, you must know every next word without 
thinking, for there will be no rhymes to help 
along. Study it aloud, Nannie, if you can, and 
when you have said it five times in succession 
without a mistake, then we '11 see about the ex- 
pression. There ! I have preached quite a 
sermon on elocution, but my time is up. Good 
night, little orator"; and with a kiss on the rosy 
cheek near him, Brother Jim departed. 

During the next few days Nan realized that 
her task was more difficult than she had sup- 
posed. Many a time she blundered over those 
two clauses in the middle of the speech that 
seem so similar and yet are so different. But 
she kept bravely at work, and Wednesday even- 
ing met her brother with the triumphant ex- 
clamation : " I 've done it seven whole times 
without a mistake ! " 

After dinner the library doors were closed 
and the training began. 

Nan had decided to have no gestures. 

" I never could make any fit for the words," 
she said, " and my hands look so like a girl. 
Don't you think I could put them behind my 
back ? They would be out of sight then, and I 

■ 8 9 4) 



know the people that make speeches do that 

After a moment's thought, her brother 
said yes. 

" Say it through once," were his next words, 
and Nan obeyed. There was a slight tremble 
in the girlish voice, but the words were spoken 
with no hesitation, and in such a way that the 
hearer felt instinctively the love and reverence 
that they had aroused in the heart of the 

" Very good, so far," was the brother's com- 

ized till then how Catiline must have shaken 
in his shoes. I suppose you would call it a sort 
of reserved force, and that 's what I want for 

There is no use trying to tell how Nan en- 
joyed the evenings that followed, for her 
brother told her story after story of his favorite 
hero, Lincoln, and Saturday took her to New 
York to see the famous cyclorama of the battle 
of Gettysburg. After that, the words, " the 
brave men, living and dead, who struggled 
here," meant more to her than ever before. 

'bob's solemnity was irresistible." (see page 763.) 

ment ; " only, of course, it must be stronger. 
The great thing for a woman is to speak 
clearly, because she cannot shout — and ought 
not, either. I remember when I was in the 
high school our teacher had a fancy to have us 
read our Cicero in the Latin, with proper em- 
phasis, and there was one girl who beat us all ; 
for while we boys thundered with all our lung- 
power, she, with her low, clear voice made us 
actually shiver. In fact, I think I never real- 

The day after her decision she had met Bob, 
and remarked : 

•' I have found another piece, and I do wish 
you would take The Jackdaw." 

" What 's the matter ? Going to give us Pat- 
rick ? " with a quizzical grin. 

" No, I 'm not." 

" Is your new one better than The Jackdaw ? " 

" Yes, I think so." 

" As long ? " 





" Well, I thought you 'd find those peculiar 
verses rather a pull. My Mad Dog is fine. 
They '11 applaud it more than yours." 

" I know they will," and the conversation 

There had also been the announcement to 
the rhetoric teacher. Ten days before the time 
for recitation, each scholar was obliged to re- 
port the name of the piece chosen. 

The teacher glanced at the title written 
on the slip of paper that Nan gave her, then 
exclaimed : 

" Why, Miss Merrifield, do you really mean 
that this is your choice ? " and she looked up as 
if expecting to hear that the girl was joking. 

" Yes ; it is, Miss Bird," was Nan's answer. 
'• I really want to speak it, and my brother is 
showing me how. You have no objections, 
have you ? " 

" Why, no. I suppose it is a good plan to 
be familiar with such things, and you generally 
know your pieces, so I trust this will be well 

"Yes, Ma'am"; and Nan retired, saying to 
herself, " Well committed ! — as if that were all ! " 

Friday morning came. Her brother was to 
be away till Saturday evening. 

" Good luck to you, little sister. Do your 
best for Abraham Lincoln," were his last words; 
and Nan felt as if a solemn trust had been 
committed to her keeping. 

" I suppose you will want to wear your new 
dress this afternoon ? " her mother remarked, as 
they rose from the luncheon-table. 

" Does n't this one look well enough ? " asked 
Nan, with an anxious glance at the plain folds 
of her dark- green school-dress. 

" Yes, indeed; only I thought the girls tried 
to be a little gayer on speaking-days." 

"They do, generally, but — well — Mother 
dear, you know what my piece is, and some- 
how I want to do everything I can to make 
them forget about me and think only of the 
great words I am saying. See, I have even 
changed my hair-ribbons"; and with a tremu- 
lous little laugh she pulled her braids over her 
shoulder, showing two neat dark bows, in place 
of the floating cardinal ribbons that usually 
served to keep the bonny brown locks in place. 

Mrs. Merrifield did not even smile. 

" I understand, little daughter. You have 
Mother's best wishes for your success," was all 
she said ; but in her heart she felt that more 
than Lincoln's great words would be needed 
to make her forget, for one instant, the sweetly 
serious face that had been lifted for her tender 
kiss. However, we all know that mothers are 
different from most observers. 

When Nan entered the school-room, her first 
act was to look toward the large blackboard 
above the platform. She breathed a sigh of 
relief: the program had not yet been written. 
There were several glances at her dress, and 
one girl exclaimed : 

" Why, I thought it was your turn to speak 
this afternoon ? " 

" It is," was Nan's reply as she walked to 
her seat and began to look over her algebra. 
How she got through her recitations Nan never 
knew. " You can't forget it ; you can almost 
say it backward," she kept saying to herself; 
but in her heart she knew that her burning 
cheeks and shaking hands came from no fear 
of forgetting, but from the dread of bringing 
into shame those grand words that she had 
learned to reverence so deeply. 

Two o'clock struck, and Miss Bird came in 
to write the program. It was the custom at 
Norton high school to hold a rhetorical exer- 
cise of an hour, every Friday afternoon. There 
were, usually, three essays and three recitations. 
Those who took part were selected alphabeti- 
cally from the three upper classes. 

The program for this Friday was as follows: 

Essay — "The County Fair" Walter Jennings. 

Recitation — "The Inchcape Rock". . . . Alfred Lane. 

Essay — " Curiosity" Helen King. 

Recitation — "The Mad Dog". . Robert Merrifield. 

Essay — " My Favorite Heroine " Kate Leslie. 

Recitation — " The Gettysburg Address " 

Anna Merrifield. 

There it stood, at last, read by three hundred 
curious eyes. Nan felt the many glances that 
were turned toward her. It was a relief when 
Miss Bird announced the first number on the 
program. Just at that moment the door opened 
and Mr. Lester, the principal, entered, followed 
by a tall, white-haired man, whom all the schol- 




ars knew to be' Judge Lane, one of Norton's 
most prominent citizens. He mounted the plat- 
form, bowed with courtly grace as Miss Bird 
offered him a chair, then, slowly raising his 
gold-rimmed glasses, turned and read the pro- 
gram. Nan watched, with her heart beating 
fast, for the Judge was one of her father's 
friends, and she would have been so glad if she 
had felt sure of pleasing him. For just one 
moment she thought of The Jackdaw, then with 
an unconscious lifting of her head, and a silent 
"Are n't you ashamed of yourself?" turned 
her attention to the essay in progress. Walter 
Jennings was convulsing his hearers with his 
description of a county fair. Nan found her- 
self laughing with the others, as he told of his 
investment of ten cents for the sight of the 
"wonderful phenomenon of a horse with his 
head where his tail ought to be," only to dis- 
cover a poor old quadruped faced about in its 
stall. Nan's lip curled at the following recita- 
tion, for this was one of the stock pieces, and 
she was heartily weary of seeing "Sir Ralph the 
Rover's " wonderful performances, as interpreted 
by school-boy gestures. Helen King's " Curi- 
osity " was as short and sparkling with wit 
and humor as high-school essays sometimes 
can be. Then came "The Mad Dog." Nan 
was obliged to confess that Bob's solemnity 
was irresistible. It was as he had predicted. 
The audience was not quite sure as to the 
humor or pathos of the piece, and Bob's sober 
countenance kept them well in doubt till at the 
end he recited the last two lines in the most 
commonplace fashion, and there followed an 
involuntary burst of merry applause. Judge 
Lane's eyes had twinkled all through the reci- 
tation, and Nan from her desk in the front row 
heard a subdued " Well done ! " under cover of 
the applause. 

" Oh, dear ! I wish they did n't like funny 
things so well ; but Kate will sober them down, 
for she always writes serious essays," was her 
inward comment. But — alas for her hopes! 
" My Favorite Heroine " turned out to be 
Mother Goose, and the dear old dame was 
served up in such an attractive style that even 
the coming orator could not help listening to 
the end. Kate made her courtesy, and Nan's 
time had come. Her knees shook as she left 

her seat. It seemed an endless journey to the 
corner of the platform. She would not meet 
the mischievous look in Bob's eyes as she passed 
his desk, but the muttered, " I 'm wid yez, 
Patrick ! " sounded clearly in her ears. 

As she reached the platform her brother's 
parting words flashed through her mind, " Do 
your best for Abraham Lincoln." 

There was no further hesitation ; with steady 
step she passed to the front, linked both hands 
loosely behind her, then paused one second for 
perfect silence. The next instant there fell on the 
school-room air, in a voice low, but strong and 
clear as a sweet-toned bell, the opening words 
of Lincoln's masterpiece : 

Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought 
forth on this continent anew nation, conceived in liberty, 
and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created 

One after another the short, grand phrases 
fell from the girlish lips. Every consonant re- 
ceived its full value, every word could be plainly 
heard in the farthest corner of the large room. 
Firm and strong rang the words : 

The world will little note nor long remember what 
we say here, — 

and with hushed earnestness the sentence 
closed — 

but it can never forget what they did here. 
Finally came the noble and inspiring close : 

That we here highly resolve that these dead shall not 
have died in vain ; that this nation, under God, shall 
have a new birth of freedom ; and that government of the 
people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from 
the earth. 

The room was still, as Nan paused, with a 
stillness more flattering than the ' loudest ap- 
plause ; but when she reached the head of the 
platform steps, the clapping began. It rose and 
fell with a vehemence seldom, if ever, heard 
before in that school-room. As Nan took her 
seat, she caught a glimpse of the Judge thump- 
ing his gold-headed cane with all his might, 
but under the bushy white brows there was a 
gleam of something in the keen eyes that all 
Bob's solemn fun had failed to bring there. 





Of course there were many in that school- 
room audience who applauded " because the 
others did." 

" What did possess them to make such a 
noise ? " said Lena Chase, to her bosom friend. 
" I did n't see anything very wonderful. Why, 
she never made one gesture, and I am sure I 
have seen her look a great deal prettier lots of 

"Yes, so have I," answered the bosom 
friend; "but I felt sort of shivery all the time 
she was reciting, and when she finished I 
could have cried or shouted, I don't exactly 
know which." 

As for Nan herself, she was almost tired of 
being asked, "What made you do it?" "Aren't 
you ever going to speak any more funny 
pieces ? " 

To the former question her answer was the 
provoking but convenient " Maybe I '11 tell 
you, sometime " ; to the latter, " Yes, indeed. 
I have a very funny one for next time — one 
that Bob chose for me." 

When she was half-way home that afternoon, 
she heard a quick tramp behind her. It came 
nearer, and finally halted at her side. The next 
minute, her cousin took the books from under 
her arm, while he said, holding out his right 
hand : " Shake hands on it, Nan. I give in ; 
the Mad Dog was awfully tame, and I 'm go- 
ing to begin on Patrick to-morrow." 

The following evening, when Mr. James 
Merrifield came into the library before din- 
ner, he found a rather silent little sister gazing 
into the fire. 

" Well, Nannie, how did it go ? " 

" I don't know, exactly ; nobody laughed, 
and they looked pretty solemn, and — yes — 
they clapped quite loud, but somehow I 
did n't notice very much what happened. 
But I did remember what you said, and 
tried to do my best for you, and — Abraham 

Before her brother could reply, her father 
came into the room. As Nan stood up for 
her evening kiss, he pinched her cheek and 
said, as he handed her a sealed envelop : 

" When did you and Judge Lane begin a 
correspondence ? He left this at my office 


Nan broke the seal, and read in the Judge's 
stately handwriting : 

My dear Miss Anna : I trust that the inclosed may- 
serve to convey in some slight degree my appreciation 
of your fine rendering of the greatest speech in our lit- 
erature. I feel that it would have been impossible for 
one who did not honor the writer of that speech, and 
also the occasion that called it forth, to have spoken those 
words as you did yesterday. It may be that your father 
has told you that my only son was among those " hon- 
ored dead." I remain, Miss Anna, 

Yours sincerely, 

Thomas N. Lane. 

Father and brother thought the Judge would 
have been fully repaid for parting with one of 
his cherished autograph manuscripts had he 
seen the delight in Nan's face as she unfolded 
the inclosed sheet of note-paper. The slightly 
yellowed surface showed but a few lines of 
writing, but beneath them in plain, legible, 
homely characters, stood the signature — 

The Merrifield family spent two weeks in 
Chicago last October. When Nan thinks of 
that fortnight of delights, it seems one long, 
beautiful dream of swift gliding over blue 
lagoons between white wonders called build- 
ings; of fascinating strolls in the famous Mid- 
way, and of endless vistas of rare and curious 
productions. There is one day, however, that 
stands in the diary of her thoughts, stamped in 
letters of gold. Strange as it may seem, it was 
a day when she did not go to the Fair. 

" Nan must see the Lake Shore Drive," her 
brother had remarked one morning. And a 
more perfect day for the sight could not have 
been chosen. A strong north wind was toss- 
ing the gleaming blue waves of Lake Michigan 
all a-tumble, as Nan and her brother walked 
along the famous avenue. Every now and 
then a soft hissing crash filled the air, while the 
feathery spray of the broken waves was tossed 
six feet or more above the granite breakwater. 
The girl drew long, delighted breaths of the 




keen wind as they turned the corner into 
Lincoln Park, and took their way toward 
a flight of granite steps. 

" Whose statue is it ? " was the question 
that trembled on Nan's lips as she stood 
with one hand resting on a huge bronze 
ball and looked up at the figure above. 
The question was never asked, for one 
glance into the strong, homely face look- 
ing down upon her was enough. Bronze 
is a hard metal, but the face of Lincoln, 
in St. Gaudens's statue, will always be 
tender and grand to every American. 

After that first long look, Nan turned 
to her brother with an unconscious sigh 
of satisfaction. 

" Look under your hand, Nannie," he 
said, and she obeyed. There, in letters 
of bronze, she saw the well-known words, 
beginning: "Fourscore and seven years 
ago." Slowly following the characters over 
the curves she read the speech to the end, 
then, with another glance at the face above, 
she turned away. 

" Well, what do you think of it ? " asked 
her brother. 

" Think of it ? " came the prompt re- 
ply — " that it is the very best thing I 
have seen in all Chicago." 

And Nan Merrifield thinks so still. 


Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a 
new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men 
are created equal. 

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or 
any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a 
great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field 
as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation 
might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. 

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate — we cannot consecrate — we can- 
not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, 
have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The v/orld will 
little note, nor long remember -what we say here, but It can never forget what 
they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the un- 
finished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. 
It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — 
that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for 
which they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve 
that these dead shall not have died in vain ; that this nation, under God, shall 
have a new birth of freedom ; and that government of the people, by the people, 
for the people, shall not perish from the earth. 


By Molly Elliot Seawell. 

\Brgun in the May 7tumber^\ 

Chapter V. 


Before making any attack upon Tripoli, 
Commodore Preble was awaiting the return 
of the "Siren," under Lieutenant-Commandant 
Stewart, which had been sent to Gibraltar for 

A day or two afterward, when the usual in- 
quiries were made about Stewart, Trippe an- 
swered dolefully : 

" The commodore has just had a letter from 
him, saying his mainmast is so badly sprung 
that it is unserviceable, and he is having a new 
one made. Was there ever anything so un- 
lucky ? Of course, he can't get here for a con- 

some stores, and to have some slight repairs siderable time, and all that time Old Pepper 

The Siren, however, 
did not come back as 
promptly as was ex- 
pected, which annoyed 
Commodore Preble ex- 
cessively. The officers, 
all of whom were Stew- 
art's friends, were fearful 
that it might hurt him 
very much in the com- 
modore's opinion. His 
arrival, therefore, was 
looked for anxiously, 
and every hour of the 
day, the question was 
asked, " Has anything 
been heard of Stew- 
art ? " And every day 
Commodore Preble's 
vexation became more 
evident. At last, one 
morning, seeing a very 
fine merchant ship that 
was bound for Gibral- 
tar, making her way 
out of the harbor, the 
commodore signaled to 

her, and sent a boat with a letter to Captain 
Stewart. The letter was written in the commo- 
dore's most peremptory vein, and with his 
curtest decision. It simply directed Stewart to 
sail at once, without waiting for further repairs. 




will be lashing himself into a rage ; and, on top 
of this, Stewart gets the commodore's orders to 
sail at once." 

But one fine morning, only a day or two 
after this, a vessel which looked very like the 




"Argus," a sister ship to the Siren, was discerned 
approaching; and within a few minutes the 
officers with their glasses declared her to be 
the Siren. But she had no mainmast, and her 
appearance with only one mast was grotesque 
in the extreme. 

" What can it be, sir, that Captain Stewart is 
towing ? " asked Pickle Israel of Lieutenant 

before. He remembered his peremptory or- 
ders to Stewart to sail at once. Stewart 
had evidently taken him at his word, and 
had sailed with one mast and was towing the 

The good news that " Old Pepper " had 
smiled instead of scowling at Stewart's device, 
quickly communicated itself to the officers, and 




Trippe, as the two watched from the deck of 
the flag-ship, the Siren approach. 

Trippe examined it carefully; but, before he 
could make out what the object was, the com- 
modore walked up, and, handing Trippe his 
glass, asked him : 

" Will you be kind enough, Mr. Trippe, to 
examine the Siren and see what she is towing?" 

Trippe took the glass, and he could not refrain 
from smiling as he answered the commodore : 

" It is undoubtedly the Siren's mainmast, sir. 
As you see, she has only her foremast standing, 
and the spar is much too big and too long for 
anything but the mainmast." 

Commodore Preble's mouth twitched. He 
had never seen a ship-of-war in such a plight 

gave them great satisfaction. The reception 
of the Siren's captain, when he came aboard 
the "Constitution" soon after, was comparatively 
mild, and his explanation so satisfactory that 
he was invited to prolong his visit and have 
luncheon with the commodore. 

Decatur and Somers were much relieved at 
the news brought them that " Old Pepper " 
smiled grimly when Stewart told him about the 
mainmast, and said " that was the way he liked 
to have his orders obeyed." 

The fleet was now assembled for the first 
demonstration against Tripoli ; and not until 
Commodore Preble himself had seen the " Phila- 
delphia" and her position in the Tripolitan har- 
bor, would he finally fix upon any plan, although 


Decatur had a promise that he should have the 
honor of commanding the expedition. 

One morning, in response to a signal from 
the Constitution, all of the captains — Decatur, 
Somers, Hull, and Stewart — assembled on the 
flag-ship, to hold their first council of war with 
the commodore. As the four young captains 
met on the quarter-deck, the extreme youth of 
every one of them seemed to strike them sim- 
ultaneously, and Somers remarked : 

" You, Decatur, will be the only one of us 
with assurance enough to parley with the 

" Somers," said Decatur, with unwonted 
gravity, " I do not feel as if I could make a 
suggestion or argue with Commodore Preble, 
if my life depended upon it." 

" I pity the rest of us, then," said Stewart, 

As the four young captains entered the cabin, 
they passed a gentleman of middle age, who 
was a guest of the commodore on board the 
flag-ship. Captain Hull recognized him as 
Colonel Lear, who was the American consul at 
Tangiers, and, with a bow to the assembled 
officers, the consul retired. 

After the usual formalities, which " Old Pep- 
per" was careful to observe, unless he happened 
to be in a choleric humor, the captains seated 
themselves around the table, the commodore at 
the head. Commodore Preble then opened his 
plan of campaign, which was listened to with 
the most respectful attention. He next asked 
each of the youthful commanders for an indi- 
vidual opinion. Each hastened to agree with 
that of the commodore. 

The commodore then asked if any one of 
them had a suggestion to offer. Somers looked 
at Decatur, and Decatur looked gravely at 
Somers. Hull and Stewart looked straight 
before them. After hemming a little, each 
one in turn declared that he had no sug- 
gestions to make. " Old Pepper," after a 
glance around the table, rose suddenly. 

" Gentlemen," said he, " this council is over. 
I regret to say that I have not had, in any 
way, the slightest assistance from you. Good 

The four young captains then filed out in 
the same order in which they had entered, but 
Vol. XXL— 97. 


very much more quickly, and looking like 
whipped school-boys. 

Some hours after, Colonel Lear, entering the 
cabin, found Commodore Preble sitting at the 
table, leaning his head on his hands, in an 
attitude of the deepest dejection. 

" Lear," said he, raising himself up, " I have 
been indiscreet in accepting the command of 
this squadron, with the duty of punishing Trip- 
oli. Had I known how I was to be sup- 
ported, I certainly should have declined it. 
The Government has sent me here a lot of 
school-boys, as commanders of all my vessels, 
and not one of them but is afraid to open his 
mouth before me ! " 

Nevertheless, the commodore went on with 
his preparations, and about the middle of De- 
cember he set sail for Tripoli. 

The squadron kept fairly well together for 
some days. Then a heavy gale arose, and for 
several days the ships did not see one another. 
Toward night, on the day that the gale abated, 
Decatur, while off the Tripolitan coast, caught 
sight of a ketch with a lateen sail, and flying 
Tripolitan colors. 

He at once gave orders for the pursuit, but 
the ketch showed herself a fairly good sailer, 
and it took several hours to overhaul her. She 
was skilfully navigated, and ran very close in 
shore, hoping to induce the Argus to follow 
her. But Decatur was wary, and, keeping well 
off the shore, declined to trust his ship upon 
the treacherous rocks and shoals toward which 
the Tripolitans would have led him. At last, 
just as a faint moon arose in a murky sky, the 
Argus got to windward of the ketch, and, bear- 
ing down on her, opened fire with deadly pre- 
cision. The Tripolitans at once hauled down 
their colors ; but Decatur, remembering then- 
treachery as told him by Somers, and knowing 
that the pirates preferred hand-to-hand fight- 
ing, did not slacken his fire, but, standing on, 
ranged up alongside. * The call for boarders 
had been sounded, and, of the Argus's small 
company of eighty men, two thirds were ready 
to spring aboard the Tripolitan at the word. 
In another minute the two vessels were broad- 
side to broadside. Decatur himself gave the 
order to board ; and, as the Americans sprang 
over the side, they were met by every available 




man in a crew as numerous as their own, and 
armed with the terrible curved sword of the 
Barbary pirates. 

The fight on the deck of the ketch was furious 
but short. The Tripolitans fought desperately 
but in disorder, and within fifteen minutes they 
were beaten. Decatur, in examining his prize, 
found that she had sustained but little injury ; 
and, bearing in mind (as he had done ever 
since the first day he had heard of the Phila- 
delphia's loss) the destruction of the frigate, 
he determined that the ketch would be of great 
use on the expedition, and he would, there- 
fore, take her back to the rendezvous at Syra- 
cuse with him. 

" She is of a build and rig common in the 
Mediterranean," he said to his first lieutenant, 
James Lawrence ; " and, in arranging a sur- 
prise, it would be best to have a Mediterranean 
vessel which would not be readily suspected." 

Lawrence agreed with his young captain. 
Leaving the prisoners on board, a midshipman 
was put in command of the ketch, with a prize 
crew, and sent back to Syracuse. Decatur 
then joined the rest of the squadron, and they 
proceeded to Tripoli, where, lying off the town, 
they gave it a bombardment by way of a prom- 
ise of what was to come. The lack of small 
vessels to enter the tortuous and rocky harbor, 
prevented much damage being done; but the 
Bashaw saw the fine fleet the Americans could 
muster, and word was conveyed to him that it 
would return in a few months with gun vessels 
and bombards, and attack the town in earnest. 

To Captain Bainbridge and the poor prison- 
ers with him in the dungeons of the castle the 
sight of the American flag fluttering from the 
gallant little fleet in the far distance was an as- 
surance of hope, and the cannonade, which was 
merely a defiance, was sweet music to the cap- 
tives. The sight of the great Philadelphia rid- 
ing at anchor under the guns of the castle and 
the fort, and wearing the Tripolitan colors, was 
a sore one for the American officers and sailors. 
But Decatur, during all the days of the can- 
nonade, kept his eyes fixed on the frigate when- 
ever he could, studying her position, examining 
charts, and thinking out the scheme for destroy- 
ing the ship. He felt that he was destined to 
achieve glory in that undertaking. 

Chapter VI. 


Upon the return of the squadron to Syra- 
cuse, preparations went on vigorously for the 
attempt upon the Philadelphia. Decatur's 
first plan, which he held to eagerly, of going 
in boldly and cutting out the frigate, was flatly 
forbidden by Commodore Preble, as being too 
rash. Decatur's second plan, of going in with 
the ketch, disguised, and destroying the frigate, 
was approved of by Commodore Preble, who 
had, in fact, first suggested the idea to Decatur. 
He and " Old Pepper " spent many long hours 
in the cabin of the Constitution, perfecting 
the details of the hazardous expedition; and 
the commodore's respect for his " school-boy 
captains " increased every day that they served 
under him. Particularly was he gratified at the 
spirit of instant acquiescence they showed, when, 
after the keenest rivalry among them all for the 
honor of supporting Decatur, the privilege was 
accorded to Captain Stewart, in the Siren, which 
was the fastest and most weatherly of the brigs 
and schooners. Somers felt the deepest disap- 
pointment ; but, with his usual calm good sense, 
he allowed no impatient word to escape him. 

The ships were to remain at Syracuse all 
winter. Meanwhile, every effort was made 
to communicate with Captain Bainbridge and 
his officers imprisoned at Tripoli. A large re- 
ward was offered for the conveyance of letters 
to and from the prisoners, and two letters were 
successfully conveyed to Captain Bainbridge, 
and answers received. 

The general plans of Decatur's expedition 
were now known among the American officers, 
and privately discussed. " Old Pepper " gave 
Decatur one last warning : 

" You may dream, Captain Decatur, that 
you could bring out a frigate of the Philadel- 
phia's draft through that tortuous harbor at 
night, under the fire of every battery in the 
town, of the castle, and the whole fleet in the 
harbor. Very well, sir, if you attempt it, and 
get out alive, you shall be sent home at once, 
under charges ; for look you, Captain Decatur, 
it is as dangerous to do too much, when you 
are under my orders, as it is to do too little." 

Decatur very wisely held his tongue, and 

1894- ] 



realized that the destruction of the ship was 
all he could aim at. 

The expedition was to start about the first of 
February. Decatur consulted with Somers, and, 
with his help, made out a list of the officers 
he desired, which he submitted to the com- 
modore. Decatur found himself unable to 
make a choice among his three lieutenants, — 
Lawrence, Thorn, and Bainbridge (the nephew 
of Captain Bainbridge), — and felt obliged to 
take them all. 

Somers and Decatur were constantly together 
during those last days, and Decatur was ably 
assisted by Somers's extraordinarily good judg- 
ment in matters of detail, especially regarding 
the disguising of the ketch and her company. 
Every officer and man was to be provided with 
a jacket and trousers such as the Maltese sailors 
wear; for the " Intrepid " was to steal in as a 
fruit-laden vessel from Malta. 

At last, every preparation being well forward, 
on the afternoon of the third of February, De- 
catur, with Somers, was pulled to the Constitu- 
tion, where they found Stewart and Hull. 
Every officer and man on the ship knew that 
the choice of officers was to be made that day, 
and all were on hand so as not to miss the 
chance of going upon an expedition of so much 

Decatur went immediately to the commo- 
dore's cabin, where he submitted his list; and 
every name was approved. As he appeared 
upon the quarter-deck with the commodore, he 
could not but smile at the ill-concealed eager- 
ness of the officers, who could scarcely restrain 
their impetuosity. 

The commodore looked around and sjniled; 
not an officer was missing. He took his station 
near the gangway, and an instant hush fell upon 
them. The boatswain's call to " Attention " 
was a mere form. 

" Gentlemen," said he, " you perhaps know 
that it is in contemplation to send an expedi- 
tion, under the command of Captain Decatur, 
to Tripoli, for the purpose of destroying the 
Philadelphia, which has been raised, refitted, 
and now flies the Tripolitan colors. Captain 
Stewart, of the Siren, is to support Captain De- 
catur, with his whole force. The ketch, so gal- 
lantly captured by Captain Decatur, is to be 

used, as being of a build and rig often seen in 
Mediterranean ports, and therefore not likely 
to excite suspicion. She has been fitly named 
the Intrepid, and her ammunition is now aboard 
of her, and she sails at daylight. Captain De- 
catur has the selection of his brave assistants. 
I can only say that his choice, — like mine of 
the ships and the captains to do the work, — 
will be made solely upon the ground of availa- 
bility. If willingness to go were the only test, 
there could be no choice; but in other respects 
there is a choice, which Captain Decatur has 
made, with my approval." 

The names selected were then read off. 

The older officers looked acutely disap- 
pointed ; many of them had hoped to go ; but 
they gave the lucky ones a rousing cheer., while 
the " stay-at-homes " among the midshipmen 
joined in, and all shook hands cordially with 
their more fortunate messmates. 

Decatur then ordered his boat alongside, 
and said farewell to the commodore and the as- 
sembled officers. He directed the midshipmen 
to report on board the Intrepid at daylight; 
and then, inviting Somers and Stewart to go to 
his ship, all three were pulled to the Argus. 

It was about four o'clock on a lovely after- 
noon in Februarv, which is a spring-like month 
in Sicily. The ketch was at anchor, with the 
red flag flying at her fore, showing that she 
was taking on powder. On the Argus, too, 
there was the tension of expectation, as they 
knew from the state of forwardness in the 
preparations of the ketch that the time of 
adventure was at hand. 

The three young captains came over the side 
together, and immediately Decatur ordered the 
boatswain and his mates to pipe " All hands to 
muster." Almost before the sound had died 
away, the men crowded up the hatchways, and 
the officers quickly ranged themselves on the 
quarter-deck. " All up and aft " was reported, 
and Decatur advanced with the list in his 

" Gentlemen," said he to his officers, in his 
usual impetuous way, " you know, perhaps, that 
an expedition leaves at daylight to-morrow 
morning, in the ketch Intrepid, to destroy the 
Philadelphia, in the harbor of Tripoli. I have 
the honor of commanding the ketch, while 




Captain Stewart, in the Siren, commands the 
supporting force. All will wish to go," — a 
murmur of assent was here heard, — "but all 
cannot go ; hence I select those who seem to 
me best adapted to bear the hardships and to 
withstand the peculiar fighting methods of the 
Tripolitans. I have concluded to make no 
choice among my lieutenants, but take them 
all, and Midshipman Macdonough, and Dr. 
Heermann, surgeon." 

A rousing cheer, as on the Constitution, 
greeted this announcement, and the five offi- 
cers were warmly congratulated. Decatur then 
turned to the men. 

" Of you, my men," he said, " I will name 
one who may go : the pilot, Salvador Catalano. 
I wish sixty-one men out of the ship's company, 
and I shall take the first sixty-one who volun- 
teer. Let each man who wishes to go advance 
two steps." 

As if moved by a common impulse, every 
man and boy on the ship, including two or 
three just out of the sick-bay who had not yet 
reported for duty, advanced two steps. 

Decatur stood looking at them, his fine face 
lighted up with pleasure. 

" My men," he said, " it is impossible that all 
should go. Let those who are most necessary 
on the ship, those who are not physically strong, 
and those under twenty and over forty, step 

Not a man moved. In the midst of the 
dead pause Danny Dixon spoke up, touching 
his hat. 

" Please, sir," he said, " ain't none of us 
more 'n forty or less 'n twenty ; ain't none of us 
necessary on board the ship, as we knows on ; 
and ain't a one of us that ain't jest as healthy 
and strong as a whale." 

Decatur managed to take this without smil- 
ing, but replied, ' ; Very well. Pipe down, 
boatswain. Within an hour I shall have made 
out a list of the sixty-one men whom I wish 
to accompany me." 

Summoning Lawrence, his first lieutenant, 
Decatur, with Stewart and Somers, disappeared 
into the cabin, and the men were dismissed. 

Next morning at daylight the five officers 
from the Argus, the five midshipmen from the 
Constitution, the sixty-one petty officers and 

seamen, and the pilot, Catalano, were assem- 
bled on the deck of the ketch. The accommo- 
dations were bad, and not more than half the 
officers could sling their hammocks at one 
time ; but not a word of objection was heard. 
Early as it was, Somers was on hand to bid his 
friend good-by. Just as the pale pink flush 
of dawn lightened the dark water, the Intrepid, 
hoisting her one lateen sail, got under way, and 
Somers, wringing Decatur's hand, dropped into 
his boat alongside. As the ketch caught the 
morning breeze and began to glide rapidly out 
toward the offing, Decatur ran aft and waved 
his cap at Somers, standing up in the boat, who 
returned the greeting and then pulled away to 
his own vessel. The Siren, being a fast sailer, 
did not leave until the sun was well up, when 
she too spread her white sails and flew. 

Several days of delightful weather followed. 
The officers amused themselves with rehearsing 
the proposed strategy by which they were to 
make the Tripolitans believe them to be Mal- 
tese sailors, and the ketch a Maltese trading- 
vessel. Catalano was to do the hailing, 
prompted by Decatur, if they reached, as they 
hoped, the Philadelphia's side. Except a few 
men, the vessel's company was to remain be- 
low, but ready at a signal to leap on deck. 
The Intrepid proved to be a better sailer than 
was thought at first, and, on a lovely afternoon 
five days after leaving Syracuse, anchor was 
cast about a mile to the windward of the town. 
The Siren followed some distance behind. She 
too was disguised, her ports being closed, her 
guns covered with tarpaulins, and her sails 
daubed with lampblack, while patches painted 
on them represented old and worn canvas. 
By devices of various sorts she was made to 
look like a stanch American or English mer- 
chantman after a long voyage. Having got 
the Intrepid in a good position without being 
discovered, Decatur was eager for night to fall, 
that the desperate adventure might be made. 
Right out before them lay the large though 
dangerous harbor of Tripoli, the frowning 
castle, and the numerous forts that protected 
the town. Among all the shipping the dark 
and towering hull of the Philadelphia was most 
conspicuous; and from her peak flew the 
crescent of Tripoli. 




" There she is, my men ! " cried Decatur, as 
he pointed her out. " All her guns are kept 
double-shotted, and when we make a bonfire 
of her, she will give the rascals a broadside 
that will make them squeal." 

The wind had been rising for some little 
time, and just then it blew violently from the 
southwest. The sky became overcast, and 
suddenly darkness seemed to envelop them. 
This Decatur thought rather favorable to his 
scheme ; but Catalano, the pilot, who knew 
every foot of the harbor, came up at that 

" Sir," he said in English, but with a strong 
Italian accent, " we cannot take the ketch in 
to-night. The water is no doubt now breaking 
clear across the reef at the western passage; 
and. even if I could get in, there would be no 
chance of getting out. I know this harbor 
well, sir, and the water must be smooth before 
it is safe to go near the reefs." 

It was obviously impossible to attempt the 
attack that night, and accordingly the Intrepid 
so signaled the Siren. The wind had now be- 
come a roaring gale, and soon the Intrepid 
was stretching out to sea. It was observed 
that the Siren was having trouble with her an- 
chor, but she finally contrived to get away from 
the offing. 

For six days the storm raged. The brig, 
which had finally been obliged to leave her 
anchor and cable, managed to keep in com- 
pany with the ketch, which threatened to 
founder at every moment. 

Their provisions were soaked; and, in cold 
and wet and hunger, these brave men wea- 
thered the gale. But at last, on the morning 
of the 15th of February, the weather moder- 
ated, the wind fell, and a bright sun shone. 
The ketch and brig found themselves in the 
Gulf of Sydra. As all signs promised good 
weather for some days, Decatur signaled the 
Siren to bear away for Tripoli, and began to 
make his preparations for the attack. 

Toward evening they found themselves in 
sight of the town, with its circle of forts 
crowned by the frowning castle. The great 
hull of the Philadelphia, larger than any other 
in the harbor, stood out in bold relief, her 
masts and spars clearly defined against the daz- 

zling blue of the African sky. Two frigates, 
anchored about two cables' lengths apart, lay 
between her and the castle, while nineteen gun- 
boats and a few galleys lay near her. From 
the castle and the batteries, one hundred and 
fifteen guns could be trained upon an attacking 
force ; but the bold tars in the Intrepid took 
all the chances cheerfully, and even gaily. 

Every man had been instructed in his duty, 
and the crew was not mustered, for fear of 
awaking distrust. The watchword " Philadel- 
phia " was passed around. The men quietly 
took their places below the hatches, while half 
a dozen officers sat or lay about on deck. 
Catalano took the wheel, and Decatur, in a 
common sailor's jacket and fez, stood by him. 

The breeze had become light and baffling in 
the offing, and the Siren, which kept well away 
from the Intrepid in order to avoid suspicion, 
was evidently unable to get any nearer until 
the wind should change. But at the entrance 
to the harbor it was very fresh, and carried 
the ketch forward at a lively rate. Decatur 
saw that his best hope was to make a bold 
dash then, without waiting for the gallant little 
brig, that was almost becalmed. At the mo- 
ment when the steersman made straight for the 
western entrance to the harbor, Decatur ad- 
dressed a few last words to his officers and men. 

" You see," he said, in a firm, clear voice, 
perfectly audible to all, although not loud, 
" that Stewart and his gallant crew cannot as- 
sist us. Very well ; the fewer the number, the 
greater the honor. Our brave shipmates now 
in prison have been forced for many months 
to see the shameful spectacle of an American 
frigate wearing the colors of her pirate captors. 
Please God, it shall be so no longer after to-night. 
Let every man think of this ; let him think of his 
country : and, though we cannot hoist our flag 
at the Philadelphia's peak, we can at least send 
the ship to the bottom." 

A half-suppressed cheer greeted Decatur's 
brave words, and every officer and man felt 
himself possessed by that noble enthusiasm 
which works miracles of courage. 

About nine o'clock, when they were a mile 
off the town, a brilliant moon rose. 

The scene was one of perfect peace and 
beauty. All the shipping in the harbor lay 




quietly at anchor, and the water was so smooth 
that their lights were as stationary as those that 
twinkled in the town and the Bashaw's castle. 

The Intrepid stole quietly in, leaving the 
Siren farther and farther astern. The moon 
was now high, flooding the sea with glory, and 
making the harbor-lights mere twinkling points 
of flame. The Intrepid steered directly for the 
Philadelphia's bows, and this caused her to be 
hailed while still at a considerable distance. A 
number of Tripolitans were seen lounging about 
the Philadelphia's decks; and an officer leaned 
over the rail and called out : 

" What vessel is that ? " 

" The ketch ' Stella,' from Malta," responded 
Catalano, in Italian. " We were caught in the 
gale, and nearly wrecked. We lost our anchors, 
and our commander would like the favor of rid- 
ing by you during the night." Decatur, in his 
round jacket and fez, lounged near Catalano, 
and whispered to him what to say. 

" Your request is rather unusual," replied the 

" Bananas and oranges, with a few bales of 
raw silk," answered Catalano, pretending that 
he had understood the Tripolitan to ask what 
the Stella's cargo was. The ketch continued to 
draw rapidly near, and the supposed Italian 
mariners moved lazily about, gesticulating to 
one another. 

" Mulehead and son of a jackass!" cried the 
Tripolitan, " it is nothing to me what you are 
laden with. I say it is dangerous to have you 
dogs of Christians made fast to us. If you get 
on board, you will steal everything you lay 
your hands on." 

" That 's not a very pleasant way to meet 
men who have been in a whole gale for six 
days, with all our provisions spoiled, and on 
short allowance of water, and expecting every 
moment to go to the bottom." So answered 
Catalano, in an injured voice, the ketch still 
advancing steadily. 

" Then you may lie by us until daylight," 
answered the officer. At the same time, he 
ordered a boat with a fast and hawser to be 

Not the slightest suspicion had yet entered 
the minds of the Tripolitans that the Intrepid 
was anything but a trading-vessel — and luckily 

enough for Decatur and his dauntless company; 
for at that moment a puff of wind came, the 
Intrepid's head fell off, and she drifted directly 
under the Philadelphia's broadside. 

At this appalling moment, the least hint of 
the Intrepid's real character would have meant 
death to every man on board. Decatur, with 
his unshakable coolness, ordered a boat out 
with Lawrence and three seamen, carrying a 
hawser, which they quietly fastened to the fore- 
chains of the Philadelphia. The ketch, mean- 
while, was drifting under the port-batteries of 
the frigate, toward the stern, where, if she had 
escaped the guns in broadside, the stern-chasers 
could have annihilated her. But every man on 
board shared Decatur's calm self-possession at 
this crucial moment. 

The frigate's boat containing the fast had 
then put out. Lawrence, rowing back to the 
ketch, met the Tripolitan boat. 

"Give us your fast," he said, "so we can 
let go another hawser. We lost our best cables 
with the anchors, and our hawsers are so small 
that it will take two to hold us in case the wind 
should rise during the night." 

The Tripolitans handed out the fast, which 
Lawrence coolly carried on board the Intrepid. 
The men on the ketch's deck, catching hold 
of the fast, then drew their little craft close to 
the frigate's huge black hull, and were soon 
breasting along under her port-side. 

The shadow cast by the Philadelphia's hull 
was of immense help to the Intrepid's men ; but 
near the stem was a great patch of white moon- 
light, and any object passing through this glitter- 
ing and shimmering belt could be seen as plainly 
as in daytime. As, the ketch glided steadily 
along and into this brilliant light, her anchors, 
with their cables coiled up, were seen on her 

"Keep off!" shouted the Tripolitan officer, 
suddenly taking the alarm. " You have de- 
ceived us; you have not lost your anchors, 
and we do not know your character " ; and, at 
the same moment, lie ordered men with axes 
to cut the fasts. But, as if by enchantment, 
the deck of the Intrepid was alive with men, 
whose strong arms brought her grinding up 
against the frigate's side in a moment's time. 
Then a great yell went up from the frigate. 

i8 9 4.) 


"Americanos ! Ame?icanos ! " cried the Tri- 
politans. The next instant, Decatur, who was 
standing ready, made a powerful spring, and 
jumped at the Philadelphia's chain-plates, 
shouting at the same moment : " Board ! " 

Morris and Laws, two of the midshipmen of 
the Constitution, were at Decatur's side, cling- 
ing to the frigate's plates. Morris and Decatur 
both sprang at the rail, and Morris being little 
more than a boy, and very lithe and agile, his 
foot touched the quarter-deck first ; but Deca- 
tur's was second. Laws had dashed at an 
open port-hole, and would have been the first 
on the frigate, but his boarding-belt, with his 
pistols in it, caught between the gun and the 
port, delaying him so that he was third. 

Instantly, in the dazzling moonlight, tur- 
baned heads appeared over the rail and at 
every port. The Americans came pouring over 
the side, and as the Tripolitans rushed above, 
they found the quarter-deck already in posses- 
sion of the " Americanos." The Tripolitans 
ran forward and to starboard. The Americans, 
quickly forming a line across the deck, and 
headed by Decatur, dashed at them; and, 
caught between an advancing body of resolute 
seamen and the ship's rail, those who were not 
cut down, after a short but desperate resistance, 
leaped overboard. The Americans proved more 
than a match for them in hand-to-hand fight- 
ing, at which they had been thought invincible, 
and they fought in disorder. In five minutes 
the spar-deck was in possession of the Americans. 

Below, there was a more prolonged struggle. 
The Tripolitans, with their backs to the ship's 
side, made a fierce resistance ; but they were 
clearly overmatched from the beginning ; and, 
as it was their practice never to fall alive into the 
hands of an enemy, those who were not cut 
down on the spot ran to the ports and jumped 
overboard, and, within five minutes more, there 
was not a Tripolitan on board the frigate ex- 
cept the dead and wounded. ^Not until then 
did the batteries, the castle, the two frigates 
moored near the Philadelphia, and the gun- 
boats, take the alarm. The ketch, however, 
fastened close under the overhanging quarter- 
gallery of the frigate, and completely in the 
shadow, still escaped detection. Lights began 
to flash about from the ships and the batteries ; 


but not enough could be discerned to justify 
the Tripolitans in firing upon their own ship. 
Warning had been given, though, and it was 
now only a question of a few moments how 
long the Americans could work undisturbed. 

Decatur now appeared upon the quarter-deck 
to see that the powder on the ketch was rapidly 
transferred to the frigate. Lawrence was with 
him. When the moment came that Decatur must 
give the word for the destruction of the frigate, 
his resolution to obey orders almost failed him. 

He turned to his lieutenant, and, grasping 
him by the shoulders, cried out in an agonized 
voice : " Oh, Lawrence ! why cannot this gal- 
lant ship be cut out and carried off, a glorious 
trophy of this night ? " 

" She has not a sail bent," answered Law- 
rence, firmly. " The tide will not serve to take 
so large a ship out now ; and, remember, it is 
as dangerous to do too much under Commo- 
dore Preble's orders as to do too little. Let 
me beg you to give the order at once to hand 
up the powder. See, the frigate off the port- 
quarter is lighting up her batteries." 

For a moment or two, as Lawrence watched 
Decatur's agitated face, he almost feared that 
his young captain literally could not give the 
order to destroy the ship, so intense was his de- 
sire to bring her out. But, after a moment or 
two, Decatur recovered himself. The opposi- 
tion of so fearless a man as Lawrence con- 
vinced him, against his will, that it was impossi- 
ble to save the ship ; and he gave the order, 
and the men began rapidly hoisting the kegs of 
gunpowder over the side, and carrying them 
along the decks. In a few moments the gun- 
room, the magazine-scuttle, the cockpit, and the 
forward store-rooms were filled with combus- 
tibles, and smoke was already pouring from the 
ports in the gun-deck, before those in the lower 
parts of the ship had time to get up. They ran 
to the forward ladders ; and, when the last fir- 
ing-party reached the spar-deck, the men were 
jumping into the ketch, all except Decatur 
and a small party of his own. Two eighteen- 
pounders, double-shotted, had been dragged 
amidships and pointed down the main hatch, in 
order to blow the ship's bottom out; and a 
port-fire, with a train of powder, had been 
started, so as to fire these two guns with certain 



effect. The sailors then, seeing their glorious 
work well done, dropped quickly over the side, 
into the ketch ; the officers followed, and Deca- 
tur, taking one last look at the doomed frigate, 
now wreathed in curling smoke, left her deck. 
And, the frigate being quickly enveloped in 
fire and smoke, with little tongues of flame be- 
ginning to touch the rigging, Decatur leaped 
from the Philadelphia's deck into the ketch's 
rigging ; and, sixteen sweeps being already 
manned, the order was given to cast off. At 
that very moment the guns from the Bashaw's 
castle, half gunshot off, boomed over the heads 
of the Americans. 

In this moment of triumph, though, they in- 
curred their greatest danger of that dangerous 
night. The head-fast having been cut, the ketch 
fell astern of the frigate, out of whose ports the 
flames were now blazing. The Intrepid's sail 
flapped against the blazing quarter-gallery; 
while on her deck, just under it, lay all her 
ammunition, covered only by a tarpaulin. To 
increase their danger the stern-fast became 
jammed, and they were fixed firmly to the 
blazing frigate, while the ships' shore-batteries 
now opened a tremendous fire upon them. 

There was no ax at hand, but Decatur, Law- 
rence, and the other officers managed, by des- 
perate efforts with their swords, to cut the haw- 
ser; and, just as they swung clear, the flames 
rushed up the tar-soaked rigging of the Philadel- 
phia, and the two eighteen-pounders fired their 
charges into the bottom of the burning ship. 

The Intrepid was now plainly visible, in the 
light of the blazing Philadelphia, to every man 
on board the aroused fleet and batteries, and 
to the crowds that soon collected on the shore. 
Then the thunder of a furious cannonade began. 

And now, after this unparalleled achieve- 
ment, the Americans gave one last proof of 
their contempt of danger. As the Intrepid 
worked out into the red blaze that illuminated 
the whole harbor, a target for every gun in the 
Tripolitan batteries, the men at her sweeps 
stopped rowing, every officer and man rose to 
his feet, and, with one impulse, they gave 
three thundering American cheers. 

When this was done, they settled down to 
getting out of the way. 

As they drew farther from the shore, they 

were in more and more danger from the batter- 
ies ; but, although many shots threw showers 
of spray over them, the Americans gave back 
only derisive cries and cheers. A rapid count 
showed that not a man was missing. 

As they pulled with powerful strokes toward 
the offing, they could see the vague outline of 
the Siren and her boats, fully manned, lying 
like black shadows on the water. The harbor 
and town were as light as day, with the reflec- 
tion from the blazing frigate and the silvery ra- 
diance of the moon. The Philadelphia seemed 
to be burning in every spot at the same mo- 
ment. Flames poured from her ports, and her 
fifty guns, all shotted, began to go off in every 
direction, as her blazing hull drifted helplessly 
with wind and tide. Many of thjs shells from 
her guns crashed into the fleet around her, 
while, at almost every turn, she poured a furi- 
ous cannonade of heated shot into the castle. 

As her decks fell in, the guns were lowered 
at the breech, and their hot shot went farther 
and farther, even into the town itself. One shot 
from the castle passed through the sail of the 
ketch ; but the men only laughed. 

They were soon well out of range, and close 
to the launch and cutter of the Siren. Decatur 
hailed the cutter, which was very fast. 

" Bring up alongside," he cried, " and take 
me aboard ! " The cutter quickly drew along- 
side. Decatur jumped on board, and the boat 
shot ahead of the slower ketch. As they 
neared the Siren, Decatur perceived, by the 
light of the moon, Stewart at the gangway, 
anxiously peering into the darkness. He could 
see only the officer in command of the boat in 
uniform, and he did not recognize Decatur, 
disguised in the jacket of an Italian sailor. 
When the boat got near enough, Decatur made 
a spring at the hawser that hung astern, and 
in another moment he had sped along the 
deck and clapped Stewart on the shoulder. 

" Did n't she^make a glorious bonfire? " he 
cried; "and we came off without losing a man ! " 

Stewart wrung Decatur's hand, while the 
other officers crowded around and joined in 
overwhelming Decatur with congratulations. 

The wind still held, and, the Siren getting up 
her anchor, Decatur returned on board the 
ketch; and all sail was made for Syracuse. 

( To be continued.) 

Vol. XXL— c 




For several years we have been hoping that 
some self-sacrificing American naturalist would 
tackle the bears of North America, bring to- 
gether a collection of about two hundred skins 
and five hundred skulls, representing all forms 
and all localities, and then solve the conun- 
drums that are continually being thrust upon 
us by some of the members of this family. 

It seems absurd that there should be any 
doubt about the classification of so large and 
common an animal as the cinnamon bear, or 
even of the rarely-seen barren-ground bear; 
but the doubts are here, nevertheless, and will 
stay until some courageous author shall write 
a " monograph," or technical treatise, on our 
Ursidce, and give us a plain, common-sense set- 
tlement that will stick. This would probably 
have been done long ago but for the annoying 
fact that bear-skins are expensive. 

There are very few intelligent persons who 
are not interested in bears and their ways. 

At the present hour one of the principal 
products of the mountains of Pennsylvania, 
next to coal and iron, is bear stories, and in 
spite of the fact that something less than two 
thousand have been published during the last 
four years, the new crop is still interesting. Just 
now, however, a new storm-center has devel- 
oped in the South, and we are having our 
blood curdled regularly by the most thrilling 
and awful shorthand reports of bloody com- 
bats — always to the death, but without extra 


{Seventh paper of the scries, "Quadrupeds of North America.") 

By W. T. Hornaday. 

charge for that — between bears and alligators. 
If I could only find out when and where the 
next combat is to take place, I would have a 
front seat — regardless of cost or mosquitos. I 
suspect, however, it will come off in the top 
story of some story-maker's house, where quiet 
reigns, and ink is more plentiful and far less 
expensive than gore. But the wild-animal 
story-teller occupies a family all by himself; 
and while he alone is worthy of a chapter, — 
which I may some time be tempted to offer, 
— he has no claim to a place with our bears. 
At the head of our list of American bears 
comes the Polar or White Bear, whose 
Latin name means liter- 

POLAR BEAR. „ , , , , . 

,t, , ,, . ,., , ally the bear of the icy 

{ J/ia-uiss-arc las mar-i-ti /nils.) J J 

sea. He is big and burly, 
always hungry, and, thank goodness ! always 
of the same color. No fickle turncoat is he, 
like all other American bears, but wherever 
you find him he is always white and unmis- 
takable. The strangest thing about him is that 
he is as sublimely indifferent to the coldness of 
ice-water as is the hull of a ship. The grizzly 
bear is fond of water, — when its temperature is 
right, — but he would about as soon think of 
entering a lake of fire as an ice-filled stream 
in midwinter. 

The chosen home and hunting-ground of the 
Polar Bear is the edge of the icy sea, where the 
frost king and old ocean continually struggle 
for the mastery. He seldom wanders more 
than twenty-five miles inland. In winter, as 
the edge of the frozen sea moves farther and 
farther south, he follows its advance. In sum- 
mer, as the ice-pack melts and breaks away he 
follows it northward again for the sake of the 
seals that go with it. He thinks no more of 
plunging in and swimming two or three hours 




amid the floating ice, with the temperature 
at forty degrees below zero, than Ave would 
of going to the post-office the day before 

In the summer of 18S1, Mr. E. W. Nelson, 
then in the Signal Service on the " Corwin," 
shot a huge female Polar Bear that was over- 
hauled by the steamer while swimming with 
her mate in the open sea, near Herald Island, 
northwest of Bering Strait. The male also was 
killed, but the floating ice was so thick that he 
was lost before a boat could reach him. " With 
this female," says Mr. Nelson, " was a yearling 
cub, and when the pursuit became pressing, and 
the cub began to tire, she swam behind it with 
one of her fore paws on each side of its back, 

off to us in the face of the sleet and wind. He 
had probably smelled our smoke, and came off 
to reconnoiter ; but a warm reception changed 
his mind, and he turned and vanished in the 
fog again." 

The favorite food of the Polar Bear is the 
flesh of seals, sea-lions, walruses, fish, and dead 
whales. Of all seal-hunters, he is the most suc- 
cessful. Instead of being obliged to stalk his 
game on the ice, in plain sight, he can hunt like 
a crocodile. He takes to the water, swims slowly 
up, with only his nostrils and eyes at the sur- 
face, and before the seal, watching landward, 
is aware of his danger, his clumsy body is fairly 
within the hungry jaws of the " tiger of the 
ice," as Dr. Kane called him. 



thus shielding it from danger, and urging it 
along. She continued to do this until wounded 
in various places and finally disabled. . . . 
While the Corwin lay at anchor off the ice 
during a heavy gale, a bear came swimming 

But, strange as it may appear, the Polar 
Bear does not live by flesh alone. In their 
Alaskan travels, Mr. Henry W. Elliott and 
Lieutenant Maynard once chanced to visit St. 
Matthew Island, a lonely bit of land in Be- 





ring Sea, about half way between the strait 
and the Aleutian Archipelago. There they 
found between 250 and 300 Polar Bears, bask- 
ing in the warm lap of summer, shedding their 
winter coats, lazily eating and sleeping, and 
growing fat on the roots of the small flowering- 
plants and mosses that abounded. As the ex- 
plorers' boat approached the shore, a score 
of bears were in sight at one time. The bears 
literally possessed the island, " grazing and 
rooting about like hogs in a common." In 
spite of their numbers they could not be in- 
duced to fight, but always ran when ap- 
proached, either in " a swift, shambling gallop, 
or trotting off like elephants." They were fond 
of sleeping in the sun on sheltered hillsides 

" soundly, but fitfully," says Mr. Elliott, " roll- 
ing their heavy arms and legs about as they 
dozed." After shooting half a dozen specimens 
in the tamest manner, the two explorers decided 
to kill no more; for, by reason of shedding, 
their furry coats were worthless. One that was 
shot by Lieutenant Maynard measured exactly 
eight feet in length of head and body together, 
and its weight was estimated at between 1000 
and 1200 pounds. 

In former times, before the advent of the 
breech-loader, the Polar Bear was bold, ag- 
gressive, and dangerous to man. Many a 
poorly-armed Eskimo has gone down forever 
under his huge paws. But modern fire-arms 
have changed all that. Now this once dreaded 

i8 94 ] 


7 8l 

creature runs from man as far as he can see 
him, like a timid deer, and unless the hunter 
can bring him to bay with dogs, or get him in 
the water at a disadvantage, there is no such 
thing as getting a shot at him. 

The home of the Polar Bear on this conti- 
nent is not very difficult to define. On the 
Pacific side it begins at St. Matthew Island, 
and the mouth of the Yukon River, let us 
say 6o° north latitude, and thence follows 
the coast lines and the ice-pack northward 
through Bering Strait, eastward wherever land 
meets the waters of the Arctic Ocean and its 
many connections. It extends through all the 
straits, channels, and bays of the great frozen 
archipelago, into Hudson's Bay as far down as 
6o°, and down Labrador, I know not how far 
at present. Thence they range northward along 

the black bear is the most persistent of all 
[Ursus A-mer-i-can'us) our large mammals in his 
refusal to be exterminated. 
Because of the facts that his senses are keen, 
his temper suspicious and shy, and his appetite 
not at all capricious, he hangs on in the heavily 
wooded mountains, swamps, and densely tim- 
bered regions of North America, generally long 
after other kinds of big game have all been 
killed or driven away. 

As his name implies, he is jet black all over, 
except his nose, and when his fur is in good 
condition it is glossy and beautiful. His muz- 
zle, from his eyes down to the edge of his 
upper lip, is either dull yellow or dingy white, 
and sometimes, particularly in Alaska, he has 
a white spot on his breast. According to lo- 
cality and climate, the hair of the Black Bear 


both sides of Baffin's Bay and Davis Strait, 
to General Greely's storm-beaten camps on 
Cape Sabine and Lady Franklin Bay. And 
still on northeastward they go, along the north 
Greenland coast to where Lieutenant Lockwood 
saw their tracks at 83° 3', almost at his very 
farthest north, headed northeast and still a-go- 
ing ! And there we must leave him for the present. 

may be short and close, as in the South, or 
long and inclined to shagginess, though not so 
much so as the grizzly's. Very often his coat 
will be abundantly thick and of good length, 
but so even on the outside and so compact 
that he looks as if he had been gone over by 
the scissors and comb of a skilful barber. So 
far as I have seen, neither the grizzly nor cin- 


namon ever has that appearance. In the 
North, where his furry coat is finest, it is now 
eagerly sought by the furriers, and the stan- 
dard price for a large skin of good quality is 
twenty-five dollars. The ladies prize it for 
muffs and collars, and the carpet warrior and 
the bandmaster love to have it tower heaven- 
ward from their warlike brows as a shako. 

In size the Black Bear ranks third (among 
American species) after the polar bear, the grim 
old grizzly occupying second place. The cubs 
are usually two in number, and at first are blind, 
helpless, and almost shapeless. Two were born 
on February 7, 1894, in the Zoological Park at 
Washington, concerning which Mr. A. B. Baker 
soon after wrote me as follows : 

One was accidentally injured by the mother 
bear and died on the second day. It was of a 
mouse-color, a little lighter underneath, the skin 
darker than the hair. The hair was fine, short, 
and quite elastic, lying close to the body and 
offering considerable resistance when rubbed the 
wrong way. The little fellow was eight and 
one-half inches long, including one-half inch of 
tail, and weighed eight ounces. The other cub 
now, at four weeks old, seems to be about twice as 
large as when born, and is of a bright, glossy 
black. It has, from the first, had a strong voice, 
but it has not yet opened its eyes. 

Although the cubs are at first so ridiculously 
small and helpless, they grow rapidly after the 
first month, get their eyes open in about forty 
days, and within a year are quite sturdy brutes. 
A Black Bear weighing 400 pounds may fairly 
be considered a large one, but they often grow 
far beyond that weight. In a very interesting 
paper on this species in the Century for March, 
18S2, Mr. Charles C. Ward mentions a Black 
Bear that he once saw which weighed 523 
pounds, and measured six feet four inches from 
nose to tail. Although I have often hunted in 
Black Bear country, the largest specimen I ever 
shot was unhappily a small one ; but at the 
leading hotel of Tacoma, State of Washington, 
I saw in 1888 a live Black Bear whose propor- 
tions were truly enormous. He was as large 
as the largest grizzly I ever saw alive, and I es- 
timated his weight at 750 pounds, which I am 
sure was not over the mark. Notwithstanding 
his enormous size, he was as playful as a puppy, 



and almost as good-tempered, at least with the 
hotel cook, who served his meals in a wash- 
tub ! It was a most comical sight to see him 
skylarking with the cook to get possession of a 
broom. When finally he captured it he went 
through as many antics with it as a monkey, 
the drollest of which was when he held it in all 
four of his paws, rolled his huge bulk over and 
over, and finally ended by lying on his back, 
and twirling the broom on the soles of his hind- 
feet like a juggler, seldom letting it fall. It was 
an odd sight to see such a huge animal so ac- 
tive and playful. 

It is easier to tell what a Black Bear does n't 
eat than to give his bill of fare. His principle 
seems to be — everything is food that can be 
chewed! He is carnivorous, herbivorous, fru- 
givorous, insectivorous, and omnivorous. If any 
new " ivorous " is ever invented hereafter, be- 
yond a doubt he will be that also. To him, 
nothing is either too big or too little, too high 
or too humble, to be eaten. For instance, he 
loves beef, pork, mutton, and poultry of all 
kinds, and sometimes makes havoc in an un- 
protected barnyard that happens to be within 
striking distance of his home ranch. He loves 
dead fish that are cast upon the shore, and 
live fish whenever he can catch them. 

In the month of May, the Black Bears along 
the east coast of Florida swim the Indian 
River, which is nearly everywhere three miles 
or more in width, and become industrious 
" beach-combers " during June, July, and Au- 
gust, while the green turtles and loggerhead 
turtles are crawling up out of the ocean, and 
laying their eggs in the warm sand along the 
beach. Mrs. Latham, of Oak Lodge, once 
knew a Black Bear to devour two hundred 
turtle eggs at one sitting, from a nest that had 
been counted and marked the evening before. 

The Black Bear loves frogs also. He tears 
to pieces every old decayed stump, log, or ant- 
hill that he can find, and devours the ants, ants' 
eggs, and grubs within with all the relish of a 
professional ant-eater. He loves every berry 
that grows, whether on bush, tree, or vine, and 
likewise the sweet potatoes and apples raised 
by the farmer. In his own forest he finds 
plenty of edible roots that make excellent bear 
meat, for which he roots like a hog. 

i8 9 4-: 



But a bee-tree, oh, a bee-tree — with honey in 
it ! That is the candy and ice-cream of Bruin's 
whole life. He will climb any height, and take 
the thousand stings on his bare nose for the 
sake of a good feed of honey fresh from the 

Top and sole of hind paw. 

tree. He is not particular about the quality 
of it, or the shape of the comb, but reaches his 
black arm into the cavity, rakes out the sweets 
with his living rake, and devours them greedily, 
comb, honey, young bees, larvae and all. And 
woe to the queen herself if she ever gets within 
range of his sweet tooth, — everything goes ! 
Bruin is the only fellow living who will deliber- 
ately rifle a wasp's nest for what there is in it. 
He may be stung on his nose and lips until he 
howls with pain, but he considers honey a good 
salve for stings, and keeps right on. 

One of the most curious things about the 
Black Bear (and the grizzly and cinnamon also) 
is the way he goes into snug winter quarters 
when winter has fairly set in, and lies dormant 
in his den without either eating or drinking 

until the next spring. This is called hibernation ; 
and during this period the ordinary processes 
of digestion seem to be entirely suspended. In 
our semi-tropics bears do not hibernate, but 
Nature undoubtedly planted this instinct in the 
brain of the bear of the North to enable him to 
survive the severe winter period when the snows 
lie deep, and all food is so scarce that other- 
wise he would be in danger of starvation. This 
period of hibernation is from about the middle 
of December to the middle of March. It has 
been stated that if bears have plenty of food 
they will not hibernate, even in the North, but 
this is a mistake. I know of at least two in- 
stances wherein bears in captivity have " holed 
up" in December and remained dormant until 
March, in spite of all temptations of offered 
food. The natural instinct was so strong that 
it refused to be overcome by appetite alone. 

There is another very curious thing about 
the hibernation of the Black Bear. His den is 
usually a hole dug under the roots of either a 
standing tree or' an uprooted tree, but it may 
be in a hollow tree, a hollow log, or more fre- 
quently, a miniature cave in a rocky hillside. 
Sometimes he makes a bed of leaves and moss 
for himself, but often he does not. In " holing 
up" under the roots of a tree he is frequently 
completely snowed in, and under such a con- 
dition, the warmth of his breath keeps the 
snow melted immediately around him. This 
moisture freezes on the inside of his den, and 
presently he is incased in a dome of snow, 
lined with ice, the hard lining of which ever 
grows thicker from the frozen moisture of his 
breath. As a result, he often wakes early in 
March to find himself a prisoner in a hollow 
dome of snow and ice, from which he cannot 
escape for days, and where he is often found 
self-trapped, and shot without the privilege of 
even striking a blow at his assailants. And 
there is where Nature serves poor Bruin a 
mean trick. I have never seen a bear in such 
an ice cage of his own building, but Dr. Mer- 
riam has, in the Adirondacks, and this informa- 
tion is borrowed from him. 

The Black Bear has courage, but it never 
comes to the surface until he is cornered by 
dogs and hunters, and knows he must fight 
or die. It is very difficult to kill a Black 

7 8 4 


Bear by unaided tracking and still-hunting, for 

he is so wide awake and wary he is hard to 

overtake. The bear-hunter usually pursues 

him with the aid of a pack of full-blood curs, 

small in size, but artful dodgers, who run down 

the bear and snap at his heels until he is 

obliged to stand 

at bay and fight 

them. A wise 

bear-dog never 

attempts to seize 

a bear, for his 

game is to harry 

Bruin and give 

tongue until his 

master comes up 

with his gun. 

Bear-hunting in 

this manner is 

even yet the 

greatest sport to 

be found in the 

mountains of 

West Virginia. 

How much clan- 
ger is there to the 
pound in a wild 
Black Bear when 
you meet him in 
his haunts, acci- 
dentally and at 
close quarters ? 
Mrs. C.F.Latham, 
wife of mine host 
at Oak Lodge, on the Indian River peninsula 
(Brevard Co., Florida) can tell you exactly. 
There is a cleared trail leading from this same 
lodge-in-a-vast-wilderness to the beach, half a 
mile away. It runs through a dense and fear- 
fully tangled jungle of cabbage palmetto, live- 
oak, and saw palmetto which forms a living 
wall on each side of the trail. 

About twelve months ago, Mrs. Latham was 
returning from the beach alone, and armed 
only with an umbrella. When just a quarter 
of a mile from this very porch, she heard the 
rustling of some animal coming toward her 
through the saw palmettos. Thinking it must 
be a racoon, she quickly picked up a chunk of 
palmetto wood, and held it ready to whack 


Mr. Coon over the head the instant he emerged, 
All at once, with a mighty rustling, out stepped 
a big Black Bear within six feet of her ! The 
surprise was mutual and profound. Naturally 
Mrs. Latham was scared, but not out of her 
wits, and she decided that to run would be to 

invite pursuit and 
possibly attack. 
She stood her 
ground and said 
nothing, and the 
bear rose on his 
hind legs to get 
a better look at 
her, making two 
or three feints in 
her direction with 
his paws. Feel- 
ing that she must 
do something, Mrs. 
Latham pointed 
her umbrella at 
the bear, and 
quickly opened 
and closed it two 
or three times. 
"Woof!" said 
the bear. Turning 
about he plunged 
into the palmet- 
tos and went 
crashing away, 
while the lady 
ran homeward as 
fast as she could go. So much for the " savage 
and aggressive " disposition of the Black Bear. 
Bears are much inclined to mischief. Many 
a lumberman in the backwoods has returned 
to his cabin to find it completely sacked, and 
everything eatable eaten or destroyed by bears. 
It is said that no animal makes so complete a 
wreck of a camp as a bear, except a wolverine ; 
but having once had even my hut itself torn 
down and trodden upon by wild elephants, I 
will back Elcphas Indicus against both the other 
fellows taken together as camp-smashers. 

I was about to state what I know of the geo- 
graphical range of the Black Bear, but, an Idea 
came to me, and you will find it in the Letter- 
Box this month. 


By Palmer Cox. 


TIMES the cun- 
ning Brownie 

To visit South- 
ern States 
had planned, 
ut something else 
attention drew 
And pushed their 
project out of view. 
At length a brief discussion rose 
That brought the matter to a close. 
Says one : " No patriot should shun 
The land that gave a Washington, 
Who for this nation of our own 
Laid such a good foundation-stone, 
That will be last to roll away 
When worlds shall crumble in decay; 
And Jackson, who from cotton-bales 
Made his opponent spread his sails, 
And to some safer quarter tack; 
And then ' Old Rough and Ready ' Zach, 
Who nearly fifty years ago 

Made stirring times in Mexico." 

These words, that touched each Brownie's 

Soon brought about an early start. 
For Florida the band set out 

^LMEft CO* 

With nimble feet and courage stout, 
And skirted many a cape and bay, 
And headland, on their southern way. 
They visited St. Augustine, 
To feast their eyes on many a scene 

Vol. XXI.— 99. 





That left impressions on 

the mind 
Of the observing Brownie 

Old forts that once were 

And kept the howling foe 

When it was much to have 

a gate 
Between one and a fea- 
thered pate, 
Were talked about, 

stories told 

Of wars, 
until the theme 
grew old. 
It gave them sport to run around 
And climb the trees that there they found, 
And swing on vines that stretched between 
The mossy trunks like hammocks green. 
Sometimes a dozen in a row 
Would thus be swaying to and fro, 
Until a break the swing would end 
And to the ground they 'd all descend. 

But what care Brownies for a fall ? 
To reach another vine they 'd crawl, 
And soon be sweeping through the air 
Upon some breakneck, frail affair. 
Oh, happy Brownies, who can spring 
From trouble as with golden wing, 
And from their minds forever cast 
All thoughts of pain or trials passed ! 
Where shall a mortal turn his face 
To bring in view another race 
So full of hope, by nothing bowed, 
And with good nature so endowed ? 
Then up the St. John's River wide, 
Of Ponce de Leon's state the pride, 
The daring Brownies took their course 
To trace it fully to its source. 
At times they paused, and well they might, 
As some bright landscape 

came in sight, 
That cannot but awake 

In those who have admir- 
ing eyes. 
Said one : " We Brownies, as 
you see, 
Are gifted in a high 

i8 94 .] 



For Nature never knew a band 
Or race, or tribe, in any land, 
From Sitka Sound to Singapore, 
That could appreciate her more. 
A scene that dull and dark might fall 
On some, perhaps, who coldly crawl 

Along through life without a thrill, 
With rapture will a Brownie fill. 
Each stream and grove attracts the eye 
The flowering vales and sunny sky ; 
And not alone of these we speak, 
AVe note the charm of beauty's cheek, 
We mark the eyes that have the art 
To soon enslave the fluttering heart, 
And lips to which the memory clings 
Through every change that fortune 

Once, while in boats they worked their 

Around a bend to reach a bay, 
Near by an alligator great 
Was resting in a dreamy state. 
Said one : " I 'm weary of the oar, 
We '11 venture nigher to the shore 
A rope around that creature throw 
And make him take our boat in tow; 
Through mystic power we '11 keep him 

Obedient to the Brownies' will, 
And thus more time we can command 
To view the scenes 

around so grand." 

Soon Brownie oars were 

laid aside, 
And poles by which 

they 'd stemmed 
the tide, 
And up the stream with 

wondrous speed 
The alligator took the 


The lengthy rope between was taut 
As with the current still he fought, 
While changed in disposition well 
Beneath the Brownies' mystic spell, 
He furnished more than one a seat 
Who thought the ride no common treat. 
In fact, so much they liked the joke, 
Each alligator they awoke 
Was soon subdued through Brownie art 
And in their service played his part, 
Delighting much the group that found 
Upon his back a camping-ground. 
For fear the charm might lose its hold 
That for a time the beasts controlled, 
And they might think they had some cause 
Without reserve to use their jaws, 
The Brownies with precaution good 
Secured the mouth as best they could ; 





So, should the spell slip from them all, 
No harm would to the Brownies fall, 
Except what trouble they might find 
If one saw fit to change its mind, 
Quit surface-swimming, and instead, 
Try crawling on the river's bed. 

Perhaps we 'd be as free and quick 
To take advantage of the trick. 
At times you might have seen a scare 
If you had been in hiding there, 
And had the gift to see them right 
That only comes with second sight ; 


. "%:' 


Had we, like them, the power to bind 
The jaws of creatures found unkind, 
Could we, through mystic spells, reclaim 
What proved unfriendly or untame, 

For sometimes in that journey long 
In spite of charms things would go wrong, 
And Brownies would be forced to try 
The swimmer's art till help drew nigh. 

i8 9 4-] 



The State is full of wonders strange 
That tempted Brownies still to range. 
Through dismal swamp and everglade 
Without a guide they onward strayed ; 

In places where no mortal cares 
To set his foot, a Brownie dares 
To travel freely in delight, 
And study Nature's face aright. 

~/>ALNiER Co* tr 


By Julia M. Colton. 

Six little marks from school are we, 
Very important, all agree, 
Filled to the brim with mystery, 
Six little marks from school. 

One little mark is round and small, 
But where it stands the voice must fall, 
At the close of a sentence, all 

Place this little mark from school : 

One little mark, with gown a-trailing, 
Holds up the voice, and, never failing, 
Tells you not long to pause 
when hailing 
This little mark from school : 

If out of breath you chance to meet, 
Two little dots, both round and neat, 
Pause, and these tiny guardsmen 

greet — ry 

These little marks from school : I 

□ HE 

When shorter pauses are your pleasure, 
One trails his sword — takes half the measure, 
Then speeds you on to seek new 
treasure ; 
This little mark from school : 

One little mark, ear-shaped, implies, 

: ' Keep up the voice, — await replies " 

To gather information tries 

This little mark from school : 

One little mark, with an exclamation, 
Presents itself to your observation, 
And leaves the voice at an 
This little mark from school : 

Six little marks! Be sure to heed us; 
Carefully study, write, and read us ; 
For you can never cease to need us, 
Six little marks from school ! 



(ome, little picfeorv , all lueavy wit)) play . 
£ome f»ri3 Vljy pinion^ furl . 
Gjats wfyat a. Japanese mo^w woul3 say 
' Co fyer cfear little Japanese girl . 
Cff»5(? to flutter fl)y wljite , wJ)ife wings, 
JYow t^af t))e Say is ~dead . 
Lisf-en nnD ~3ream wfyile tfye motrver-birb .nncjs, 
CI) At means, ii-'s time forbeb. 

Stay, little sunbeam. E>n3 cheris^ me l)ere :% 
f9y heart is so cola" uifyen you Toam . ,1 
TT^at is tly> Japanese - No , n\y clear ; 
J 3 rather you playe"3 at Ijome . 

Roses an3 lilies sV>]l strew "rW way : 

<j>|e Sur\-£o<J9eJ$ now lyis smileb . 

Chat's cufye'r a Japanese mother 'ta>ouI3 say 

Q> a <}oo<) Ivi-rle Japanese c})ilcl 


By Gustav Kobbe. 

When I was a boy in New York, as many 
of us youngsters walked in front of a proces- 
sion as there were soldiers in it. The platoon 
of mounted police which now clears the street 
for blocks ahead, was then — and it was not so 
many years ago, either — unknown; for there 
was no mounted police. Those were the days 
before a State uniform was required, and each 
regiment wore a uniform of its own. The fa- 
mous Seventh were attired like chasseurs ; there 
were zouaves, and a whole regiment of cavalry, 
and separate corps, like the Gardes Lafayette, 
who wore blue coats and red trousers, and 
were preceded by sappers with gleaming axes, 
bearskin caps, and long white aprons — not to 
mention two German regiments whose uniforms 
were not unlike those of the Prussian service. 

They made a motley procession, but not 
more motley than the vanguard of boys, the 
tallest among us marching in the lead and 
swinging one of his father's sticks like a drum- 
major. To us the real drum-major seemed lit- 
tle more than an ornament and a harlequin, a 
soldier acrobat who would have been as much 
in place in a circus as at the head of a regi- 
ment. The drum-majors were fine-looking fel- 
lows then, as now; tall and shapely, their 
natural height increased by their great bear- 
skin caps, so that they all seemed sprung from 
a race of giants. Whenever the drum-corps 
had been playing for some time, we would look 
back impatient for the drum-major's signal to 
the band. How it thrilled us to see his stick 
flourish in the air ; and when, as he brought it 
down, the band broke in upon the drums with 
a crashing chord, our forms straightened up 
and our steps became more buoyant! In those 
days I thought the duties of the drum-major 
were limited to squelching alternately the drum- 
corps and the band, and between times looking 
as large and handsome as possible. But, while 
the drum-major cannot, under any circum- 

* The tagged points or braid hanging from 


stances, be said to have been born to blush 
unseen, he performs many duties of which the 
looker-on at a street-parade knows nothing. 
It requires a visit to a State camp or a United 
States Army post to learn what the tall man in 
the bearskin hat has to do. For there he is 
busy even when he is n't on show. 

The drum-major is to the band what the 
first sergeant is to a company. He drills the 
musicians in marching, sees that they are rightly 
equipped, that the brasses are bright and the 
music in order. The band, of course, practises 
under the band-leader, but the drum-major has 
full charge of the field music — the trumpeters 
and the drum-and-fife corps. In fact, the 
drum-major derives his name from the fact 
that he was formerly the chief drummer of the 
regiment. He has been an ornament of the 
British army since the reign of Charles II., and 
has long flourished in the continental services. 
He is tambour-major in the French army, and 
he went by the same name in the German 
service until the gradual giving up of French 
terms after the Franco-German war converted 
him into the Regiments-trommlcr, — the regi- 
mental drummer, — a term which well expresses 
the original duties of the office, but lacks the 
swing of "drum-major" and "tambour-major." 
And what is a drum-major without swing ? 

At "parade," at an army post, or State camp, 
the drum-major leads the band and field music 
to the front, and brings it to a halt facing the 
color-line. At the approach of the adjutant he 
gives the command, " Open ranks," and, when 
the arms have been inspected, " Close ranks." 
He then marches the band back to its, place on 
the color-line. 

The drum-major's uniform is usually the gay- 
est in the regiment. A striking bit of color, and 
aiguillettes,* combine with the bearskin hat to 
make him one of the most picturesque features 
of a parade, especially if he has been selected 

the shoulder in some military uniforms. 




for his height and his soldierly bearing. Drum- 
major Ludwig Jorgensen, of die battalion of 
engineers at Willet's Point, is among the most 
striking-looking drum-majors in the regular 
army. With his bearskin hat he stands seven 
feet eight inches, or within four inches of eight 
feet. He carries a heavy staff about four and a 
half feet long, with a large head and long ferule. 
This staff is considerably longer than the usual 
short bamboo loaded in the center, and hence 
is better adapted for signaling commands to the 
band and field music, though the shorter stick 
is easier to twirl. A clever trick with these 
short sticks is for two drum-majors to stand 
some distance apart, twirl their sticks in front 
of them, and then let go, each drum-major 
catching the other's stick and returning it to 
him in the same way. 

The drum-major's uniform is so gorgeous be- 
cause his imagination is not fettered by the 
United States Army regulations, he being al- 
lowed to wear any uniform which his colonel 
considers appropriate. He will usually have 
three or four uniforms, changing them accord- 
ing to his fancy. You see he is the artist of the 
regiment, and so is allowed some freedom in 
dress. The drum-major ranks as a sergeant, but 
no regular sergeant in the United States Army 
could get himself up as Drum-major Jorgensen 
does, with a red breast-piece of Prussian Uhlan 
(Lancer) pattern, a broad gold and white band, 
gold epaulets, and aiguillettes, to say nothing of 
the towering bearskin hat. 

Like poets, drum-majors are born, not made. 
One man may become a drum-major in a 
week, while you can't make one of another in 
a lifetime. Without the knack of handling 
the stick he will never be an artist, and will, 
probably at the very moment when he should 
look his jauntiest, commit the crime, unpar- 
donable in a drum-major, of dropping his left 
hand to his side. For the left hand should al- 
ways, except in two-handed movements with 
the staff, rest, knuckles up, on the hip. Thus 
the drum-major's pose, when not marching or 
giving a command, is to stand with his left 
hand on his hip, his right hand grasping his 
stick just below the head, the point of the stick 
resting on the ground. He presents a fine, im- 
posing figure as he stands there, erect and tall, 

two paces in front of the band. Now comes 
the moment, so glorious to the small boy, 
when the commands " Play " and " Forward — 
March" are to be given. Facing the band the 
drum-major, with a quick turn of the wrist, 
points the ferule upward, letting it slant a lit- 
tle to the right. Then, raising his staff to the 
height of his chin, he thrusts it the full length 
of his arm to the right, and draws it back 
again. This is the signal to play. Then, 
turning, he points the staff to the front, thrusts 
it the full length of his arm forward, and music 
and march begin. In the old days the drum- 
major then brought the " cane," as the staff 
was called in the tactics, to the position of 
"carry sword." Now the drum-major beats 
time, setting the '• cadence " — the number of 
steps to a minute — of the march. As a rule 
he simply repeats again and again the thrust 
and recover, through which he gives the com- 
mand to play. Expert drum-majors, however, 
introduce some fancy movement here. Jor- 
gensen, for instance, has a pretty way of de- 
scribing a circle from the front to the back of 
his right shoulder, grasping the staff in the 
middle and twirling it so that the head points 
downward at the moment the left foot is to 
advance. In unskilful hands this movement is 
apt to end in disaster, the ferule striking the 
drum-major's back or nose — which puts the 
nose out of joint and the band out of time. 

It is important that the drum-major should 
mark the cadence correctly, as otherwise, not 
only his own, but all other regiments following, 
will march too slowly or too rapidl)'. The 
regular cadence is 120 steps to the minute; but 
in Memorial Day parades, when there are many 
veterans in the procession, the drum-majors 
quietly reduce it to ninety. Another clever 
trick of the drum-major is to seize the ferule 
between the fore and middle fingers, swing a 
full circle with it four or five times, and let go, 
giving it a slight twist as it leaves his fingers. 

The drum-major who gets the knack of the 
twist and knows enough to allow for the num- 
ber of steps he will advance, can make his staff 
circle high up in front of him and sail down 
into his hand again. 

When the band is to execute an oblique 
movement, the drum-major holds his staff in a 




horizontal position at the height of his neck, 
and pointing the ferule in the direction of the 
oblique, extends his arm to its full length. The 
prettiest evolution of the band is the counter- 
march. The drum-major " faces the music " 
and gives the signal to march, but instead of 
turning remains standing with his face toward 
the band. The band marches upon the drum- 

fighting men. In battle they aid the ambulance 
corps. It would be queer tactics to use smoke- 
less powder to prevent the foe from detecting 
your position, and then have the band tooting 
away on your line of battle ! 

The armies of the world are becoming less 
and less ornamental. The uniforms are plainer 
than formerly, so that the soldier may not be 





major, but on reaching him the file leaders to 
the right of him wheel to the right, those on the 
left to the left, the drum-major marching down 
through the center. To signal for halt the tall 
man in the bearskin cap raises the staff with 
both hands in a horizontal position above his 
head, and with arms extended drops it to a 
horizontal position at the height of his hips. 
With the staff he also indicates to the field mu- 
sic what signal it is to play, and puts the drum- 
corps through the manual : for instance, " Put 
up the drum-sticks," — " Detach the drums," — 
" Ground the drums." 

The drum-major and the musicians are not 

an easier target for the enemy, and in other 
ways the actual needs of the service have 
overcome the mere notions of the parade- 
ground. But the drum-major remains. He 
has his special role. He gives a theatrical 
touch to a review which otherwise it would 
lack, and, lacking, sadly miss. He is the last of 
all the old-time "fancy touches," and may his 
days still be long ! Like the conductor of an 
orchestra, he sets the pace. A regiment with a 
jaunty drum-major will never lack buoyancy 
and snap. 

And so, though a non-combatant, the drum- 
major is the bravest-looking of all. 

Vol. XXI.— 100. 



By Mary S. Northrop. 

In City Hall Park, New York city, stands 
the bronze statue of a young man, the story 
of whose brief life thrills all patriotic hearts. 

The statue represents him pinioned, awaiting 
the gallows, as he uttered his last words. 

Americans unite in admiration of his noble 
character, pride in his self-forgetful heroism, 
and grief over his untimely death. Every boy 
and girl in America should know by heart the 
life of Captain Nathan Hale. It is a story 

The days and weeks that followed that mem- 
orable Fourth of July in 1776 were dark indeed 
for the struggling colonists. 

Determined to crush with one effort the 
insurrection in her American colonies, Great 
Britain sent that summer a larger force than 
any which had before landed upon our shores. 

You know the story of the disastrous battle 
upon Long Island — where the few thousand 
ill-clothed, undisciplined provincial troops faced 

which every son and daughter of the great a splendidly equipped army, many regiments of 

Republic should enshrine in their memories. 

In the darkest hour of our country's struggle 
for liberty, this self-devoted hero — inspired 
with fervid patriotism and eager to render ser- 
vice to his country — laid down his young life, 
a sacrifice to the cause of American liberty. 

which were veterans. The raw American troops, 
despite their courage and heroism, were no 
match for the trained and skilled soldiery of 
Great Britain ; and even General Washington, 
undemonstrative and reserved as he was, is 
said to have wrung his hands in anguish upon 



seeing his troops defeated and driven back, he 
being powerless to aid them. 

During the night of August 29, 1776, Wash- 
ington escaped with the remainder of his little 
army across the East River. 

The troops were so greatly depressed by 
their defeat, and were in so alarming a state of 
gloom and despondency, that men deserted by 
the score. 

Washington sorely needed information of the 
strength and probable movements of the pow- 
erful enemy. He deemed it necessary that 
some skilled soldier should go, as a spy, within 
the British lines, and procure for him the 
knowledge so much desired, that he might be 
" warned in ample time." 

He wrote to General Heath that "everything 
depended upon obtaining intelligence of the 
enemy's motions,'" and he entreated him and 
General Clinton to "leave no stone unturned" 
to secure information. 

The commander-in-chief's desire became gen- 
erally known among his officers, but so perilous 
was the service that for a time no one offered 
to undertake it. 

Captain Nathan Hale, a brilliant young of- 
ficer belonging to " Knowlton's Rangers," 
calmly decided it was his duty to undertake 
the enterprise upon which the fate of the de- 
jected little army seemed to depend. His 
friends sought in vain to dissuade him from 
his purpose. " I desire to be useful," was his 
reply; his only thought seemed to be to serve 
his country. 

His fellow-officer and college friend, Captain 
William Hull, entreated him as a soldier not to 
run the risk of ending his military career by risk- 
ing the ignominious death of a spy. Hale's reply 
to his friend's argument was that " Every kind 
of service necessary to the public good becomes 
honorable by being necessary." 

The young officer presented himself to Gen- 
eral Washington as a volunteer for the dan- 
gerous service, was accepted, received his 
instructions, and disappeared from camp. 

He passed up the Connecticut shore, dis- 
guised himself as a schoolmaster, and landed 
upon Long Island. He visited all the British 
camps upon Long Island and in New York, 
and made drawings of the fortifications, writing 

his observations in Latin, and hiding them be- 
tween the soles of his shoes. 

He had been about two weeks within the 
British lines, had accomplished his purpose, and 
was waiting upon the shore at Huntington, 
Long Island, for a boat that was to convey him 
to Connecticut, when he was captured — hav- 
ing been recognized a few hours previous by a 
Tory refugee. He was taken aboard a British 
man-of-war, and carried to Sir William Howe's 
headquarters in New York city. Here he was 
condemned to be executed at sunrise on the 
following morning. 

In what prison or guard-house the noble- 
souled young patriot spent that last sad night 
of his life is not known ; but of the brutality 
with which he was treated by the provost 
marshal into whose hands he was given over, 
there is abundant proof. His request for the 
attendance of a clergyman was refused. Even 
a Bible was denied him. 

During the preparations for the execution, an 
English officer obtained permission to offer the 
prisoner the seclusion of his tent, where writing 
materials were furnished. 

But the farewell letters he wrote to his mo- 
ther, to his sweetheart, and to a comrade in 
the army, were torn to shreds before his eyes 
by the cruel provost marshal. 

It was early dawn on Sunday morning, Sep- 
tember 22, 1776, that our young hero was hur- 
ried away from the tent of the English officer 
to the gallows. The spot selected was the 
orchard of Colonel Henry Rutgers, on East 
Broadway, not far above what is now Frank- 
lin Square. 

A crowd had gathered, many of whom after- 
ward bore witness to the noble bearing of the 
young hero, and to the barbarity with which 
he was treated by the provost marshal. This 
official said : " The rebels shall never know 
they have a man who can die with such 

As Hale was about to ascend the fatal 
scaffold, he stood a moment looking upon the 
detachment of British soldiers, and the crowd 
standing about ; and the words that came from 
his loyal young heart in that supreme moment 
will never die : " I only regret that I have but 
one life to lose for my country." 





It is not known in what spot his body was 
laid, but the bones of the young patriot crum- 
bled to dust in the heart of the great metrop- 
olis of the republic he helped to found. 

So long as love of country is cherished, and 
devotion to the cause of liberty is remembered, 
so long will the name of Nathan Hale shine 
with pure and undimmed luster. 

The birthplace of our hero is in the town of 
Coventry, twenty miles east of Hartford in the 
State of Connecticut. Upon high ground, com- 
manding a fine prospect, stands the large, old- 
fashioned farm-house where he was born. He 
was the sixth of twelve children : nine sons and 
three daughters. So delicate was he as an in- 
fant, it was feared he would not live; but when 
he became a lad, exercise in outdoor sports, of 
which he was very fond, gave strength and 
vigor to his body. 

As a boy he was famous for his athletic feats. 
It is said he excelled all his fellows in running, 

leaping, wrestling, playing ball, 
and shooting at a mark. When 
a student at Yale College he 
made a prodigious leap which 
was marked upon the Green 
in New Haven, and often 
pointed out long afterward. 
Colonel Green, of New Lon- 
don, who knew him later when 
he was a schoolmaster in that 
town, speaking of Hale's agility 
says : " He would put his hand 
on a fence as high as his head 
and clear it at a single bound; 
he would jump from the bot- 
tom of one empty hogshead 
over and down into a second, 
and from the bottom of the 
second over and down into a 
third, and from the third over 
and out like a cat." 

He " loved the gun and 
fishing-rod, and exhibited great 
ingenuity in fashioning juvenile 
implements of every sort." He 
used jokingly to boast to his 
sisters over their spinning- 
wheels, that he "could do 
anything but spin ! " His 
bright mind was quick to apply what he learned. 
In those days high schools were unknown, 
and classical academies were confined to the 
large towns ; so boys of the smaller towns who 
sought for a liberal education were prepared for 
college by the ministers, many of whom were 
accomplished scholars. 

Doctor Joseph Huntington, the minister of 
the parish in which young Hale was born, " was 
considered in the churches a pattern of learn- 
ing," and from him Nathan Hale and two bro- 
thers received their preparation for college — 
being intended by their father for the ministry. 
Enoch at sixteen years of age, and Nathan at 
fourteen, entered Yale College together, and 
were graduated in 1773. 

Doctor Eneas Munson, of New Haven, says 
of Nathan Hale at this time : " He was al- 
most six feet in height, perfectly proportioned, 
and in figure and deportment he was the most 
manly man I have ever met. His chest was 

l8 94 .] 



broad ; his muscles were firm ; his face wore a 
most benign expression ; his complexion was 
roseate ; his eyes were light blue, and beamed 
with intelligence ; his hair was soft and light 
brown in color ; and his speech was rather low, 
sweet and musical. His personal beauty and 
grace of manner were most charming. . . ." 
At his graduation he took part in a Latin dis- 
pute followed by a debate upon the question, 
" Whether the education of daughters be not, 
without any just reason, more neglected than 

which the young schoolmaster made a stirring 
speech. " Let us march immediately," said he, 
" and never lay down our arms until we have 
obtained our independence." 

The young teacher gathered his school-boys 
together, and, after giving them wise counsel, 
bade them an affectionate good-by, and hurried 
away with the other recruits to Boston. 

He was soon made lieutenant in a company 
belonging to a regiment commanded by Col- 
onel Webb, and the next year he was put in 




that of the sons." A classmate wrote of this 
debate : " Hale was triumphant. He was the 
champion of the daughters, and most nobly 
advocated their cause." 

The year after his graduation from college, 
he taught school in the town of East Haddam. 

When the news of the fight at Lexington 
rang through the colonies, Nathan Hale was 
master of the Union Grammar School in New 
London. A town meeting was at once called, at 

command of a company of a famous corps — 
Knowlton's Rangers, known as " Congress's 

One of the last letters written by Captain 
Hale before starting upon his perilous mission 
was to his brother Enoch. These brothers 
were very deeply attached to each other, and 
the grief of the young minister Enoch for his 
brother's tragic fate was most profound. It 
will bring the young hero nearer to children of 




to-day, to remember that Enoch's son, Nathan, 
was the father of the distinguished author 
of our own time, Edward Everett Hale, and 
of Lucretia P. Hale, especially well known 
to St. Nicholas readers and to many other 
young people as the author of the " Peterkin 

When Captain Hale departed on his fatal 
errand, he left his uniform and camp accoutre- 
ments in the care of Asher Wright, a townsman 
who acted in the capacity of a servant to the 

memory of the " Martyr Spy " of the American 

President Timothy Dwight of Yale College, 
grandfather of the present President of the 
University, was Nathan Hale's college tutor. 
He commemorated Hale's career in a poem 
highly praising the character and qualities of 
his former student. 

Four years after the execution of Captain 
Hale, Major Andre was captured within the 
American lines ; it was Major Benjamin Tall- 


young officer. Some years after his discharge 
from the service, Asher Wright returned to his 
old home in Coventry, bearing the precious 
relics: the camp basket, the camp book, and 
the tenderly-cared-for uniform of the beloved 
young officer. He lived to extreme old age, 
but to his latest day he could not speak with- 
out tears of his young master. His grave is in 
the burial-ground at South Coventry, within a 
few feet of those of the Hale family, and near 
the granite monument erected in 1846 to the 

madge, a college classmate and dear friend of 
Nathan Hale's, who conducted Andre to Wash- 
ington's headquarters ; and on their way thither 
Andre talked of Hale and of his fate. 

Lafayette, in his memoirs, speaking of these 
two young officers, says : 

Captain Hale of Connecticut, a distinguished young 
man, beloved by his family and friends, had been taken 
on Long Island under circumstances of the same kind 
as those that occasioned tire death of Major Andre ; but 
instead of being treated with the like respect, to which 

i8 9 4-: 






is * 



Pip ' ' 


Major Andre himself bore testimony, Captain Hale was 
insulted to the last moment of his life. "This is a fine 
death for a soldier!" said one of the English officers, 
who were surrounding the cart of execution. " Sir," re- 
plied Hale, lifting up his cap, "there is no death which 
would not he rendered noble in such a glorious cause ! " 

A fine bronze monument to the memory of 
Nathan Hale is in the vestibule of the State 
Capitol, Hartford, Connecticut. It was erected But it is most fitting that the latest monu- 

in 1887, a large sum of money being voted to- ment to his memory should stand in the city 

ward its cost by the State of Connecticut. It of New York near the spot where he suffered 

bears the inscription : death for his country. 

Captain Nathan Hale, 


June 6, 1755, 

died at New York, 

Sept. 22, 1776. 

' I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country." 





By Howard Pyle. 

\_Begtt)t in the April number.] 

Chapter XL 


Marlborough was Colonel Birqhall Parker's 
home. It was, in its day, perhaps the finest 
house in Virginia, not even excepting the Gov- 
ernor's palace at Williamsburg. It stood upon 
the summit of a slope of the shore rising up 
from the banks of the James River. The trees 
in front nearly hid the house from the river as 
you passed, but the chimneys and the roof 
stood up above the foliage, and you caught a 
glimpse of the brick facade and of the elaborate 
doorway through an opening in the trees where 
the path led up from the landing-place to the 
hall door. The main house was a large two- 
storied building capped by a tall steep roof. 
From the center building, long wings reached 
out to either side, terminating at each end in 
a smaller building or office standing at right 
angles to its wing, and, together with the main 
house, inclosing on three sides a rather shaggy, 
grassy lawn. From the front you saw nothing 
of the servants' quarters- or outbuildings (which 
were around at the rear of the house), but only 
the imposing facade with its wings and offices. 

Colonel Birchall Parker had arisen, and his 
servant was shaving him. He sat by the open 
window in his dressing-gown and slippers. His 
wig, a voluminous mass of curled hair, hung 
from the block, ready for him to wear. The 
sunlight and the warm, mellow breeze came in 
at the window, just stirring the linen curtains 
drawn back to either side. 

Colonel Parker held the basin under his chin 
while the man shaved him. He had a large, 
benevolent face, the smooth double chin just 
now covered with a white mass of soapsuds. 

The noises of newly awakened life were 
sounding clear and distinct through the un- 
carpeted, wainscoted spaces of the house — 
Vol. XXI.— 101. 801 

the opening and shutting of doors, the sound of 
voices, and now and then a break of laughter. 

The great hall, and the side rooms opening 
upon it, when Colonel Parker came down-stairs, 
were full of that singularly wide, cool, new look 
that the beginning of the morning always brings 
to accustomed scenes. Mr. Richard Parker, 
who had been down from his room some time, 
was standing outside upon the steps in the fresh 
open air. He turned as Colonel Parker came 
out of the doorway. " Well, brother Richard," 
said Colonel Parker, " I am glad to see you ; I 
hope you are well ? " 

" Thank you, sir," said the other, bowing, but 
without any change in the immobility of his 
expression. " I am, I believe, very well indeed. 
I hope you are in good health, sir ? " 

" Why, yes," said Colonel Parker; " I believe 
I have naught to complain of now." He came 
out further upon the steps and stood with his 
hands clasped behind him, looking now up 
into the sky, now down the vista between the 
trees and across the river. 

There was a pause. " Have you any one 
staying with you now ? " asked Mr. Richard 
Parker, presently. 

" Nobody but Rodney Harrison and his 
sisters, and Mr. William Edwards, who stopped 
last night on his way down the river. I think 
I hear the young people now." 

There was a sound of fresh young voices 
echoing through the upper hall ; then the noise 
of laughter, and presently the sound of rapid feet 
running down the uncarpeted stairway. Eleanor 
Parker burst out of the house in a gale, caught her 
father by the coat, and standing on her tip-toes, 
kissed both of his cheeks in rapid succession. 

Two young girls and a young fellow of six- 
teen or seventeen followed her out of the house. 

" My dear," said Colonel Parker, " do you 
not, then, see your uncle ? " 

" Why, to be sure I do," said she; "but how 




could you expect me to see anybody until I had 
first kissed you ? How do you do, Uncle 
Richard ? " and she offered him her cheek to 

Mr. Richard Parker smiled, but, as he always 
did, as though with an effort. " Why, zounds, 
Nell ! " said he. " Sure, you grow prettier every 
day. How long do you suppose 't will be be- 
fore you set all the gentlemen in the colony by 
the ears ? If I were only as young as Rodney, 
yonder, I 'd be almost sorry to be your uncle, 
except I would then not have the right to kiss 
your cheek as I have just done." 

Rodney Harrison smiled constrainedly, and 
the young girl blushed and laughed, with a flash 
of her eyes and a sparkle of white teeth be- 
tween her red lips. '■ Why, Uncle Richard," 
said she, " and in that case, if you were as 
handsome a man as you are now, I too would 
be sorry to have you for nothing better than an 

At this moment the other visitor came out at 
the doorway. " Good morning, sir," said Colo- 
nel Parker, turning calmly to meet him; "I 
hope you slept well last night." 

"Thank you, sir; I did," said Mr. Edwards. 
" One is apt to sleep well after a forty-mile ride. 
How d' ye do, Parker ? " 

" How do ye do, Edwards ? " said Mr. Parker, 
and his face had once more resumed its look 
of cold indifference. 

Just then a negro appeared at the door and 
announced that breakfast was ready. And they 
all went in together. 

They had hardly begun their meal when the 
door opened and Mistress Parker, or Madam 
Parker, as she was generally called, entered the 
room, followed by her negro maid carrying a 
cushion. The three younger gentlemen rose 
to greet her. 

Lady Parker was a thin little woman, very 
nervous and quick in her movements. She 
had a fine, sensitive face, and, like her daugh- 
ter, very dark eyes, only they were quick and 
brilliant, and not soft and rich like those of the 
young girl. 

The morning was very warm, and so, after 
breakfast was over, the negroes were ordered 
to carry chairs out upon the lawn, under the 
shade of the trees, at some little distance from 

the house. The wide, red, brick front of the 
building looked down upon them where they 
sat, the elder gentlemen smoking each a long 
clay pipe of tobacco, while Mistress Parker sat 
with them talking intermittently. The young 
people sat at a little distance chatting together 
ceaselessly in subdued voices with now and 
then a half-suppressed break of laughter. 

" I hear, brother Richard," said Colonel 
Parker, " that Simms hath brought up a lot of 
servants from Yorktown." 

" Yes," said Mr. Parker, " there were about 
twenty altogether, I believe. And that brings 
a matter into my mind. There was one young 
fellow I should like very much to have if you 
can spare him to me — a boy of about sixteen 
or seventeen. I have no house-servant since 
Tim died, and so if you have a mind to part 
with this lad, sir, I 'd like mightily well to have 

" Why, brother Richard," said Colonel Parker, 
"if Simms hath no use for the boy, I see no rea- 
son why you should not have him. What hath 
Simms done with him ?" 

" He is with the other servants over at the 
old storehouse. I believe, sir, Simms had them 
sent there last night. May I send for the lad, 
that you may see him ? " 

" Why, yes, if you choose," said Colonel 

Mr. Richard Parker beckoned to a negro 
who was passing along the lawn in front of the 
house. " Go ask Simms," he said, " if he will 
send over that young boy I spoke to him of 

Jack, as he followed the negro through the 
warm, bright sunlight, gazed about him — 
though half bewildered with the newness of 
everything — with an intense and vivid interest. 
He had seen really nothing of Marlborough 
when he had been marched up from the land- 
ing-place at midnight with his fellow-servants 
the night before, excepting a tall mass of trees, 
and then the dark pile of the house looming 
against the sky. As the negro led him around 
the end of the building he gazed up curiously 
at the wide brick front of the building. Then 
he saw that there was a party of ladies and 
gentlemen sitting in the shade across the lawn. 



He followed the negro as the other led him 
straight toward the group, and then he halted 
at a little distance, not knowing just what was 
expected of him. 

Mr. Richard Parker beckoned to him. " Come 
hither, boy," said he ; " this gentleman wants to 
see you." Jack obeyed, trying not to appear 
ungainly or uncouth in his movements, and feel- 
ing that he did not know just how to succeed. 

" Look up, boy, — hold up your head," said a 
gentleman he knew at once to be the great 
Colonel Parker of whom he had heard, a large, 
stout, noble-looking gentleman, with a broad, 
smooth chin, and a diamond solitaire pinned in 
the cravat at his throat. As Jack obeyed, he 
felt, rather than saw, that a pretty young lady 
was standing behind the gentleman's chair, 
looking at him with large dark eyes. " Where 
did you come from ? " asked the gentleman. 

Jack, with the gaze of everybody upon him, 
felt shy of the sound of his own voice. " I 
came from Southampton," said he. 

"Speak up, boy, — speak up," said the gentle- 

" I came from Southampton," said Jack 
again ; and this time it seemed to him that his 
voice was very loud indeed. 

" From Southampton, hey ? " said the gentle- 
man. He looked at Jack very critically for a 
while in silence. " Well, brother Richard," 
said he, at last, " 't is indeed a well-looking 
lad, and if Simms hath no special use for him I 
will let you have him. How long is he bound 
for ? " 

" Seven years, I think," said Mr. Parker. " I 
spoke to Simms about him yesterday, and he 
said he could spare him. Simms gave thirty 
pounds for him, and I will be willing and glad 
enough to pay you that for him." 

" Tut, tut, brother Richard," said Colonel 
Parker, " don't speak to me of paying for him; 
indeed I give him to you very willingly." 

" Then indeed, sir, I am very much obliged 
to you. You may go now, boy." Jack hesi- 
tated for a moment, not knowing clearly if he 
understood. " You may go, I said," said Mr. 
Richard Parker again. And Jack went away 
accompanied by the negro. 

The gloomy interior of the storehouse struck 
chill upon him as he reentered it from the 


brightness and heat outside, and once more he 
was conscious of the dampness and all-pervad- 
ing earthy smell. The transports huddled toge- 
ther were dull and silent. One or two of them 
were smoking, others lay sleeping heavily, 
others sat crouching or leaning against the wall 
doing nothing — perfectly inert. They hardly 
looked up as Jack entered. 

" What did they want of ye ? " inquired the 
man beside whom Jack sat down. 

" I don't know,' said Jack; "it was Colonel 
Parker I saw. He 's a great, grand gentle- 
man. It 's a grand house, too." Others of the 
servants near by listened with a fleeting show 
of interest as Jack spoke, but when he ceased 
speaking the interest flickered out, and they did 
not ask any other questions. 

Chapter XII. 


The next morning the door of the storehouse 
in which Jack and his companions were con- 
fined was suddenly opened by a white man. 
He was a roughly dressed fellow with a shaggy 
beard, and with silver ear-rings in his ears. 
"Where 's that there boy of Mr. Richard 
Parker's ? " said he. 

'' D' ye mean me ? " said Jack. " Am I go- 
ing for good and all ? " 

" I reckon ye be." 

The other redemptioners had roused them- 
selves somewhat at the coming of the man, and 
were listening. " Good-by, Jack," said one of 
them ; and as he was about to go the others 
took up the words, " Good-by — good-by, 

Then he followed the man out into the 
bright sunlight. His conductor led the way 
down back of the great house and past a clus- 
tered group of cabins, in front of which a num- 
ber of negro children played like monkeys, half 
naked and bareheaded. They stopped their 
antics and stood in the sun and watched Jack 
as he passed, and some negro women came to 
their doors and stood also watching him. 

" Won't you tell me where I 'm going to be 
taken to, sir ? " asked Jack, quickening his steps 
so as to come up alongside of his conductor. 

" You 're going with Mr. Richard Parker," 




said the man. " I reckon he '11 be taking you 
down to the ' Roost ' with him." 

" The Roost ? " said Jack, " and where is the 

" Why, the Roost is Mr. Parker's house. It 's 
some thirty or forty mile down the river." 

As they were speaking they had come out 
past the end of the great house and upon the 
edge of the slope. From where they were now 
they looked down to the shore of the river and 
upon a large flatboat, with a great square sail, 
that lay at the landing-place. There was a 
pile of bags and a lot of boxes and bundles of 
various sorts lying upon the wharf in the sun. 
Three or four negro men were slowly and indo- 
lently carrying the bags aboard the flatboat. 

" Are we going down the river in that flat- 
boat ? " asked Jack, as he descended the slope 
at the heels of the other. 

" Yes," said the man, briefly. 

On the bank at the end of the wharf was a 
square brick building, in the shade of which 
stood Mr. Simms and Mr. Parker, the latter 
smoking a cigarro. Mr. Simms held a slip of 
paper in his hand upon which he kept the tally 
of the bags as they were carried, aboard. Jack 
went out along the wharf, watching the negro 
men at work until Mr. Simms called out : " Get 
aboard the boat, young man!" Thereupon he 
stepped into the boat, climbing over the seats 
to the bow, where he settled himself easily upon 
some bags of meal, and whence he watched the 
slow loading of the boat. 

At last everything was taken aboard. " We 're 
all ready now, Mr. Simms," called out the man 
who had brought Jack down from the store- 

Mr. Parker and Mr. Simms came down the 
wharf together. Mr. Parker stepped aboard 
the scow and immediately it was cast loose and 
pushed off from the landing. 

" Good-by, Mr. Parker, sir," called back Mr. 
Simms across the widening stretch of water, and 
he lifted his hat as he spoke, while Mr. Parker 
nodded a curt reply. The boat drifted farther 
and farther away with the sweep of the stream, 
as the negro rowers settled themselves in their 
places, and Mr. Simms still stood on the wharf, 
looking after them. Then the oars creaked in 
the rowlocks and the head of the boat came 

slowly around in the direction intended. Jack, 
lying upon and amid the meal-bags, looked out 
astern. Before him were the naked, sinewy 
backs of the eight negro oarsmen, and away in 
the stern sat the white man — he was the over- 
seer of the North Plantation — and Mr. Parker, 
who was just lighting a fresh cigarro. Presently 
the oars sounded with a ceaseless chug, chug, in 
the rowlocks, and then the overseer left the tiller 
for a moment, and came forward and trimmed 
the square, brown sail that now swelled out 
smooth and round with the warm wind. The 
rugged, wooded shores crept slowly past them, 
and the now distant wharf and brick buildings 
of the great house perched upon the slope 
dropped slowly away astern. Then the flatboat 
crept around the bend of the river, and house 
and wharf were shut off by an intervening point 
of land. 

Jack could not but feel the keen novelty of it 
all. The sky was warm and clear. The bright 
surface of the water, driven by the breeze, 
danced and sparkled in the drifting sunlight. 
Jack felt a thrill of interest that was almost like 
delight in the newness of everything. 

About noon the overseer brought out a ham- 
per-like basket, which he opened, and from 
which he took a plentiful supply of food ; he 
passed forward to Jack a couple of cold roast 
potatoes, a great lump of Indian corn-bread, 
and a thick slice of ham. It seemed to Jack 
that he had never tasted anything so good. 

After he had finished his meal he felt very 
sleepy. He curled himself down upon the bags 
in the sunlight and presently dozed off. 

He must have slept very soundly, for the af- 
ternoon sun was slanting when he was aroused 
by a thumping and bumping and a stir on 
board. He opened his eyes and sat up to see 
that the boat had again stopped at a landing- 
place. It was a straggling, uneven wharf, at 
the end of which, upon the shore, was an open 
shed. Thence a rough and rugged road ran 
up the steep bluff bank, and then turned away 
into the woody wilderness beyond. A wagon 
with a nondescript team of oxen and mules, 
and half a dozen men, black and white, were 
waiting beside the shed at the end of the wharf 
for the coming of the flatboat. 

Then followed the unloading of the boat. 

i8 9 4-] 


8o 5 

Mr. Parker had gone ashore, and Jack could 
see him and the overseer talking together and 
inspecting a small boat that lay pulled up from 
the water upon a little strip of sandy beach. 
Jack himself climbed out from the boat upon 
the wharf, where he walked up and down 
stretching himself and watching those at work. 
Presently he heard some one calling, " Where 's 
that young fellow ? Hi, lad, come here ! " 

It was the overseer who had brought the 
flatboat down the river who was calling him. 

Then Jack saw that they had made ready 
the smaller boat they had been looking at, and 
had got the sail hoisted upon it. It flapped 
and beat in the wind. A little group stood 
about it, and Jack saw that they were waiting 
for him. He ran along the wharf and jumped 
down from it to the sandy beach. They were 
in the act of pushing off the boat when he 
climbed aboard. As it slid off into the water 
Mr. Parker stepped into it. Two men ran 
splashing through the water and pushed it off, 
and, as it reached the deeper water, one of 
them jumped in over the stern with a dripping 
splash of his bare feet, catching the tiller and 
trimming the sail as he did so, and bringing 
the bow of the boat around before the wind. 
Then there was a gurgling ripple of water 
under the bows as the wind filled the sail more 
strongly, and presently the wharf and the flat- 
boat dropped rapidly astern, and once more 
Jack was sailing down the river, while wooded 
shores and high bluff banks alternating, drifted 
by and were dropped away behind. 

Chapter XIII. 


The sun had set and the dusk was falling 
rapidly when they finally reached their desti- 
nation. As well as Jack could see, the boat 
was running toward a precipitous bluff shore, 
above the crest of which, and some forty or 
fifty yards back, loomed the indistinct form of 
a house with two tall chimneys standing out 
sharply against the sky. There was a dark 
mass of trees at one side, and what appeared to 
be a cluster of huts to the other. The barking 
of two or three dogs sounded distantly across 
the water, and a dim light shone from one of 
the windows. As the boat approached nearer 

and nearer to the shore the steep bluff bank 
shut out everything from sight, and then, at 
last, with a grinding jar upon the beach, the 
journey was ended. 

" Jump out, boy," said Mr. Parker, and Jack 

A flight of high, ladder-like steps reached 
from the sandy beach to the top of the bluff. 
Jack followed Mr. Parker up this stairway, leav- 
ing the man who had brought them to furl and 
tie the sail. Excepting the barking of dogs and 
the light in the window, there was at first no 
sign of life about the place as they approached. 
Then suddenly there was a pause in the dogs' 
barking, then a renewed clamorous burst from 
half a dozen throats at once. Suddenly the 
light in the room began to flicker and move, 
and Jack could see that half a dozen dim 
forms had appeared around the end of the 
house. The next minute a wide door was 
opened and a woman's figure appeared holding 
a candle above her head. Instantly half a 
dozen hounds burst out from behind her and 
came rushing down toward the two, baying 
and barking clamorously. They jumped upon 
the master, whining and pawing on him, and 
he kicked them away right and left, swearing 
at them. They smelt at Jack's legs, and he 
drew himself away, not knowing how fierce 
they might be. 

Mr. Parker led the way directly up the flight 
of tall, steep steps and into the hallway. He 
nodded to the woman as he passed. " Well, 
Peggy," said he, briefly. 

She was a middle-aged woman with a strong 
stolid face. She stood aside, and the master 
passed by her into the house, Jack following 
close at his heels. It was a large, barren hall- 
way, and the light of the candle barely lit it up. 
At the farther end was the dim form of a 
broad, bare stairway leading up to the floor 
above. The whole place seemed to have an 
empty, neglected look. A couple of saddles 
lay in a heap in one corner of the room beside 
a tall, dark clock that was not going. The 
cane seats of the two tall, stiff chairs were 
burst through, bristling raggedly. ■ A bridle 
and a couple of hats hung on a row of pegs 
against the plastered wall, and there was 
throughout the place an indefinable odor of 




horses and of the stables. Mr. Parker beck- 
oned to one of the several negroes who stood 
just outside the door looking in from the fall- 
ing night. 

" Here, Coffee — Sambo — What 's your 
name — is Dennis about?" 

" Iss, Massa " ; and he grinned in the dark- 
ness with a sudden gleam of his white teeth. 

" Then take this boy to him and tell him that 
he 's to fill Tim's place. As for you," said the 
master to Jack, " you can come back here to- 
morrow morning early, and Mistress Pitcher, 
here, will show you what to do." 

As the negro led Jack around the back of the 
house, he found himself in what seemed to him 
in the darkness to be an open yard nearly bare 
of grass. Upon one side of this open space 
fronted a jumble of rickety sheds and cabins. 
A number of human figures were moving si- 
lently about these huts. They stopped and 
looked as Jack passed by them in the darkness. 
The negro led him to the last cabin in the row, 
then pointing his finger, said, " In dar, Massa 
Dennis"; and Jack understood that he was to 

The interior of the hut was dark and filled 
with the stale odor of wood-smoke. The whole 
of one side of it was occupied by a vast 
chimneyplace black as ink with soot. A ta- 
ble, two wooden chairs, and a settle, or bench, 
comprised the furniture of the room. Above 
was a shelf-like floor reached by a ladder, and 
in this loft was the dim outline of a wide bed. 
All this Jack saw by the light of a candle burn- 
ing upon the table. Beside the table sat a little 
red-haired man smoking a pipe of tobacco. 
When Jack entered, he was poring over the 
tattered pages of an almanac, while a bare- 
footed negro woman moved hither and thither 
silently upon the hard earthen floor. She wore 
a loose cotton dress, and a bright red handker- 
chief was knotted into a turban about her head. 
A double row of blue glass beads hung around 
her neck. 

As Jack entered, Dennis looked up from un- 
der his brows, shading his eyes from the light 
of the candle. 

" Mr. Parker sent me here," said Jack; " he 
said I was to stay with you." 

" Where did you come from?" asked Dennis. 

" I have just been brought here from Eng- 
land," answered Jack. 

"Oh! Ay, ay — to be sure," said Dennis. 
" Then it 's like ye 're to take Tim's place ? " 

" Yes," said Jack ; " that 's what Mr. Parker 

" And I suppose the first thing you want is a 
bite of supper ? " said Dennis. 

" Why, yes," said Jack ; " I do feel something 

At Dennis's bidding the negro woman set a 
plate of cold food for Jack, doing so with an air 
of stolid indifference, as though he had always 
been an inmate of the house. As Jack ate his 
meal, Dennis talked to him, asking him all 
about whence he came and the circumstances 
of his coming. He showed neither surprise at, 
nor especial interest in, the fact of Jack's having 
been kidnapped. " Ay," said he, " they bring 
a many from England that way nowadays." 

" And don't they ever get a chance to get 
home again ? " asked Jack. 

Dennis shook his head. "No," said he; 
" and even when their time 's up they grow to 
like it here and they stay here." 

After his supper, Jack sat for a long time on 
the other side of the fireplace. In the reaction 
from the continued straining interest of the day 
he began to feel very tired and homesick. He 
replied to Dennis dully, and by and by got 
up and went and stood in the doorway, looking 
out into the great hollow space of night dusted 
with its myriad stars. The warm darkness was 
full of the ceaseless whispering noises of night, 
broken now and then by the sound of gabbling 
negro voices. The mocking-birds were singing 
with intermittent melody from the dark stillness 
of the distant woods. The oppression seemed 
to weigh upon Jack's soul like a leaden weight. 
He felt utterly helpless and alone, and presently 
he crept back into the hut and to the bench, 
where he laid himself down. Dennis was still 
reading his almanac, and presently, before Jack 
knew it, his eyelids closed upon the figure 
bending over the table, and he had drifted 
away into a blessed nothingness of sleep. 

In the moment of first awakening Jack did 
not know where he was. His sleep had been 
leaden heavy, and in the first few moments 

i8 9 4-] 



of consciousness he had a feeling that he was 
back in the old house at Portsmouth. Then h# 
became aware of an all-pervading smell of cook- 
ing pork. There was the sound of hissing and 
sizzling, and some one was moving about the 
room. He turned his head and saw the negro 
woman busy preparing breakfast, turning the 
frying bacon over and over, each time with a 
loudly renewed hissing and sputtering. Then 
he remembered where he was. He got up 
from the low bench where he had been sleep- 
ing, and went out into the air and sunlight. 
The wide sweep of morning was very sweet 
and cool in contrast to the close, warm interior 
he had left. Everything appeared singularly 
fresh and new in the keen yellow light, and he 
looked around him with a renewed interest 
at his new surroundings. 

The Roost was a great, rambling, frame 
structure, weather-beaten and gray. There was 
about it an all-pervading air of dilapidation 
and neglect. Several cf the windows were open, 
and out of one of them hung a patchwork bed 
coverlet, moving now and then lazily in the 
wind. A thin wreath of smoke curled away from 
one of the chimneys into the blue air. The open 
space of yard was what he had fancied it the 
night before, the dusty area almost bare of grass. 
The huts facing upon it were an indescribable 
jumble of cabins, some of them built of wood, 
some of wattled sticks plastered with clay. 
Dennis's cabin was by far the best of them all. 

A lot of negro children had been playing 
about the huts. They ceased their play and 
stood staring at Jack as he came to the door- 
way of the cabin, and it made him feel how 
strange and new he was to the place. A negro 
lad of about his own age was standing in the 
door of a wattled hut at a little distance. He 
was lean and lanky, with overgrown, spider-like 
legs and arms. He had a little, round, nut-like 
head covered with a close felt of wool. He came 
out from the doorway and stood for a while 
staring at Jack ; then he came up close to him. 
" Hi, boy ! " he said, " what you name ? " * 

" My name 's Jack Ballister," said Jack. 
" What 's your name ? " 

" My name Little Coffee," and the negro boy 
grinned with a flash of his white teeth. 

" Little Coffee ! Why, to be sure, that 's a 
very queer name for any Christian soul to 
have," said Jack. 

The negro boy's grin disappeared into sud- 
den darkness. " Me name no queer," he said, 
with a sort of childish sullenness. " My name 
Little Coffee all right. Me fader Big Coffee — 
me Little Coffee." 

" Well," said Jack, " I never heard of any- 
body named Coffee in all my life before." 

" Where you come from ? " asked the negro 

" I came from England," said Jack. 

"Oh, yes! me know," said the negro boy. 
"All white man come from England." 

" No, they don't, either," said Jack. "There 's 
plenty of white men besides those in England." 

" No," said Little Coffee, " all white men 
come from England. Me Virginia black boy," 
he added, with some pride. 

" What do you mean by that ? " said Jack. 

" Why," said the negro boy, " me fader and 
me mudder came from over yan," pointing to 
the east in the direction in which Africa might 
be supposed to lie ; " me born here," pointing 
to the cabin, "in dis house; so me be Virginia 
black boy." 

Just then Dennis came to the door. " Hi, 
boy ! " he called. " Come and get your break- 
fast. The master '11 be awake presently, and 
then he '11 be a-wantin' you. You had better 
be in the way when he wants you, if you know 
what 's good for you." 

Chapter XIV. 


Hezekiah Tipton had been down at the 
wharf. He was returning with a packet of 
papers in his hand when, at the street corner, 
he came face to face with Attorney Burton. 
" Good morning, Master Tipton," said the lit- 
tle lawyer. " I 've been looking for you every- 
where, and am glad to find you at last." 

The old man, holding the papers in one 

* In the talk of the negroes throughout the narrative, it is intended rather to suggest the dialect of the times 
than the negro talk of nowadays. It must be borne in mind that a large number of the negro slaves of that time 
were native Africans who had only just learned English, or were learning it. 



hand, looked vacantly at the little lawyer. 
" Well," said he, " what do you want, Master 
Burton ? I be in a great hurry now, and have 
very little time to talk." 

" In a hurry, eh ? " said the little attorney. 
" Well, maybe you can't do better than to talk 
to me for a while even if you are in a hurry. 
Maybe you don't know, Master Tipton, how 
all the town is talking about your nephew, 
Jack Ballister, and how he 's disappeared all 
of a 'sudden. Nobody seems to know aught 
of him, Master Tipton. I myself had an ap- 
pointment with him two weeks ago at the In- 
dian Princess Coffee-House, and when I came 
here I found he was gone and all the town 
talking about him. Maybe you can tell me 
something of him, Master Tipton." 

The old man shook his head. " No," said 
he, " I know naught of Jacky." 

He moved as though to go, but the little 
man also moved to place himself in front of 
him. " Well," said he, " if you can't give me 
news of your nephew, Jack Ballister, maybe 
/ can give you some news of him. I think I 
know where he is, Master Hezekiah Tipton, 
and I think I know where I can find him." 
He thrust his hand into the inner breast-pocket 
of his coat, and brought out a packet of papers 
tied around with a tape. " I have here," said 
he, " some papers that may give you news of 
your nephew. Stop a bit, Master Tipton ; 
don't be in such a hurry until you hear what 
I have to say." Then the old man seemed 
suddenly to surrender himself to the interview. 
He let his hands fall at his side and stood lis- 
tening. " First of all," said the attorney, " I 
have here an affidavit of Israel Weems, the 
London crimp. He was the man who was 
down here with some redemptioners just about 
the time your nephew vanished. 'T is very 
important evidence, Master Tipton." 

" Hush, Master," said Hezekiah, " don't talk so 
loud unless you 'd have all the street to hear." 

"Oh, oh! very well," said the lawyer, "if 
that 's the way you feel about it, why then I 
won't talk so loud." He felt that he had 
gained a point. " Just step a little aside here 

{To be con 

then. Well, Master Tipton, I '11 tell you in 
krief what I 've been able to find out so far as 
I can. I 've found out enough to make me 
know that your nephew, Jack Ballister, hath 
been kidnapped and hath been taken away to 
Yorktown in the Virginias, and these affidavits 
and papers can prove it beyond a question. 
Now, Master Tipton, I tell you what 't is : I 
have a mind to go to the Americas and hunt 
up Master Jack Ballister." 

" Why would you do that ? " said Hezekiah. 

" Because," said the little man, " I have a 
deal of interest in him. But all the same I 
won't go to the Virginias if somebody else will 
take the business up — you, for instance, Mas- 
ter Tipton. Now, I 've got a great deal of 
evidence about your nephew, Jack Ballister. 
If you '11 pay me a hundred pounds, I '11 give 
all this evidence over to you. I '11 hand over 
all these papers to you and go home and say 
no more about it, and let you follow up the 
case as you choose. That 's what I have to 
offer, Master Tipton." 

Hezekiah seemed to think a little while. He 
absently fingered the papers he held. " Well, 
Master Burton," said he, at last rousing him- 
self, " all this is very new and strange to me 
that you be telling me, and I can't answer you 
right off about it. To tell you the truth I am 
in a vast hurry just now about some other 
business. I must have time to think of this 
here. Just you bring your papers over to the 
office — let me see — day arter to-morrow, and 
then I '11 be able to talk to you and tell you 
what I '11 do. So, good day to ye, good day 
to ye, Master Burton. Day after to-morrow 
in the art'noon." Then the old man was gone, 
hurrying away up the street. 

" Stop a bit ! Stop a bit ! " called the little 
man after him. " What time in the afternoon 
shall I come ? " 

But the old man did not seem to hear him as 
he hurried away. "Well," said the attorney to 
himself, as he pocketed his papers, " he 's a 
mightily unsatisfactory man to deal with for 
certain. He 's bound to deal witli me though, 
all the same." 



By H. Gilbert Frost. 

' The KeaworgeW^ 
^Famous Vessel Sunk 
^Stbry of Hie Great Fi.u 


Standing before the bulletin-boards of any 
of the newspapers of the country, on a morn- 
ing in the early days of last February, we 
should have found ourselves in a group of 
people eagerly discussing the news. We should 
have heard exclamations of surprise, sorrow, 
and regret arising on every side : " What ! the 
old ' Kearsarge ' wrecked ! " " What a pity to 
lose the famous old ship ! " " Too bad that she 
should be lost ! " — while the older men in the 
crowds, turning to the younger, were recall- 
ing incidents of those stirring times when the 
" Alabama," built in England for the Confeder- 
ate States, was for nearly two years the terror 
of the seas. 

During the height of the Civil War, from the 
Sunday, August 24, 1862, when she was put in 
commission under the command of Captain 
Raphael Semmes, near the Azores, to that Sun- 

day, June 19, 1864, when she was sunk off the 
coast of France, the Alabama roamed at will 
over the North Atlantic, South Atlantic, and 
Indian oceans. From Newfoundland to Singa- 
pore her name was known and spoken with fear. 
Appearing and disappearing, she captured and 
looted prizes, pursued and destroyed merchant- 
men, but eluded all naval pursuit. Escaping 
every danger, she accomplished more work and 
did more harm than any other ship of ancient 
or modern times. 

So great, indeed, was the injury done to Amer- 
ican commerce, that at length the Government 
built a ship of good live-oak in the navy-yard 
of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and, naming 
her the Kearsarge, after one of the mountain- 
peaks of the " Old Granite State," commissioned 
her, under the command of Captain John A. 
Winslow, to hunt down this famous " Corsair 
of the Seas." 

The Kearsarge immediately went in search of 
the Alabama, and found her at last in the har- 
bor of Cherbourg, on the northern coast of 
France. The Alabama had run in there for 
coal, and Captain Winslow, having made sure 
of his famous enemy, awaited her off the coast. 
Visitors from Paris, and all the country round, 
flocked to town, as rumors of a coming naval 
combat filled the air, and the rumors proved 
not without foundation ; for on Sunday morn- 
ing, June 1 g, 1864, while thousands of specta- 
tors lined the shore, the Alabama, flushed with 
her past exploits, and confident of success, 
sailed proudly out to meet the Kearsarge be- 
yond the neutral waters of the bay. 

" We, as victors, will continue last night's 
festivities on shore this evening," said the Ala- 
bama's officers to their friends, on taking leave, 
laughing merrily over the hand-shakings and 
good-bys. One hour and two minutes from the 
time the first guns were fired, those very con- 



fident officers were swimming for their lives, 
and die Alabama, riddled with shot and shell, 
her hull pierced through and through by the 
eleven-inch shells from the great after-pivot 
gun of the Kearsarge, and with many of her 
crew killed and wounded, had disappeared 
forever beneath the waves. 

" The Alabama sunk ! " How the news, when it 
arrived, flashed over this country, and with what 
rejoicing it was received in all the loyal States ! 

All honor to the Kearsarge, who, without the 
loss of a single man, had achieved such a glo- 
rious victory over the terror of merchantmen 
and " Scourge of the High Seas " ! 

Honor, and glory, too, have followed her in 
all these after years, wherever she has gone; for 
all the world had learned by heart the story of 
her gallant and historic fight with the Alabama. 

No wonder, then, when in the cold, gray damp 
of a winter's morning we read of her loss, that 
in turning away there should come to us a 
touch of sorrow as we thought of the fate of the 
brave defender of a nation's honor, — sunk on 
a hidden reef, abandoned by officers and crew, 
and left to the mercy of the waters of that far- 
off Caribbean Sea. 

Let us see what had become of the noble 

Prepare now for a sea-voyage. Fancy that, 
in the middle of the month of March, a few 
weeks after the news of the disaster had arrived, 
you were with us on board the steamship 
" Orion," with Norfolk, Virginia, and Fortress 
Monroe left behind, standing out between the 
capes of the Chesapeake, headed for San Salva- 
dor. After the American continent faded from 






view, that first land seen by Columbus was the 
first land that we sighted. 

We were bound for Roncador Reef, where 
the old Kearsarge went down; for the Gov- 
ernment, unwilling to abandon such a faithful 
servant without an effort in her behalf, sent out 
our expedition to see whether the ship could 
not be raised and brought triumphantly to port. 

As we left the coast, the weather was cold, 
the sea was rough, and there was little sleep 
on board. Now and again in the night you 
found yourself on all fours, crawling like a cat 
over the floor of the cabin, having been pitched 
from an upper bunk. But all were good- 
natured, and even " Billy, the mess-man," did 
not complain when dishes left the table, refus- 
ing to be penned in by the racks. Suddenly 
came a great change. How warm it was ! We 
entered the Gulf Stream, and the water turned 
a beautiful blue. Flying-fish were seen ; occa- 
sionally one came on board, to the great de- 
light of " Muggins," the cat, favorite of all the 
crew. We saw whales spouting ; they are of- 
ten found near that great stream of warmer 
water. The weather became warm and lovely, 
and in the beautiful moonlight nights the men, 
gathering in groups on the deck, would spin 
sailors' yarns and strange adventures from all 
over the world. At times, too, " Mike " and 
" Luke," the divers of the expedition, related 
strange tales of experiences under water; or 
the chief engineer, who was fond of music, was 
persuaded to play for an occasional dance. 

" Do you think we can save her ? 
question all asked the officers — of w 
were on board more than there were 
in Washington during the Civil \v 

" was the 
hom there 
ar. There 


i8 9 4.; 


were Lieutenant Forse, of the navy, executive 
officer of the Kearsarge at the time of the wreck; 
Captain William F. Humphrey, of the com- 
pany that had made a contract with the Gov- 
ernment for saving the old vessel ; Captain 
Smith, commanding the Orion ; Captain Bur- 
gess, head of the wrecking-crew, with Captain 
Dean as foreman. All were questioned ; nor 


From Cape Dame Marie our course was 
shaped toward Roncador, the interest and ex- 
citement increasing day by day as we ap- 
proached the dangerous reef. After the noon 
observation on Wednesday, March 21, Captain 
Smith announced that by eleven o'clock on 
the morrow we should see the Kearsarge. All 
were on the lookout the following morning, but 


did the landsmen spare even " Martin," the life 
of the forecastle, or " Frank," the greatest wit 
of the crew. 

We made San Salvador on the third morn- 
ing out, sighting a few small hillocks that rose 
from the island. Other islands and lights were 
passed, and on the following day we sailed 
along between the beautiful western coast of 
Hayti and the eastern end of Cuba. The moun- 
tain-chains rise precipitately out of the water, 
with here and there a lonely peak towering 
into the clouds. Some of us who were familiar 
with the Eastern Seas compared the coast of 
Hayti to that of China. 

by eleven o'clock, as there were no signs of the 
Kearsarge, the engines were stopped until the 
noon observation should determine the po- 
sition of the ship. Then it was found that a 
current had taken us out of our course, and 
that we were some miles due south of the reef. 
Then we steamed north, while every eye swept 
the horizon. Some of the men climbed to the 
masthead, others clung to the shrouds. We 
were beginning to fear that we had again gone 
astray, when a shout from above, and then 
another, and another, proclaimed " Breakers on 
the starboard bow ! " 

The excitement became intense. " I see a 




vessel ! " cried a man from the masthead. 
" Two — three — a whole fleet ! " 

" Pirates ! " exclaimed one captain. 

" Robbers ! " added another. 

" We '11 clear them out," Captain Smith 

" Can you see the Kearsarge ? " we asked. 

" Yes ; there she lies over to the leeward of 
the breakers ; one mast in her. No ! no ! that 's 
a small ship and no wreck. I can't see any 
signs of her. Yes ! yes ! there she lies off yon- 
der! No! That 's not the Kearsarge." 

Thus the uncertainty continued, but in the 

no signs of the Kearsarge. " She 's gone ! " 
exclaimed the lieutenant. 

The vessels we had seen turned out to be 
four small schooners and a sloop, ostensibly 
fishermen ; and toward them we made our 
way, dropping our anchor about five o'clock 
in the afternoon. The breakers, rolling in 
a mile and a half away, kept up a continuous 
roar, so that we understood why the Spanish 
should have named the reef " Roncador," or 
"The Snorer." 

After we had anchored, a dark mass in the 
surf was seen. It was the only possible object 


mean time we had caught the gleam of the surf 
from the deck below, and before long the 
whole sweep of the breakers coming into view 
offered a most magnificent spectacle. 

There was the boundless ocean, with the 
waves sweeping in until suddenly, in a line, 
more than ten miles long, they were dashed 
into glittering spray with a roar that sounded 
like distant thunder. The color of the water, 
moreover, was beyond description. It had 
in places the intense blue of the deep seas, 
with the glow of the deepest sapphires, and 
over the nearest shoals there was the sheen of 
the celestial blues, such as are seen in Canton 

We approached nearer and nearer; but found 

that could be the Kearsarge. The scoundrels 
had burned her ! No one had been willing to 
admit the truth, though it had grown more 
evident the nearer we approached. 

The Kearsarge was gone ! Men looked at 
one another and sadly shook their heads. Thus 
vanished all hope of seeing the old ship afloat 
once more, and brought safe home. The Kear- 
sarge had won her last battle, breasted her last 
storm, sailed her last voyage. Henceforth she 
belonged to history. 

Captain Burgess, in the surf-boat, went at 
once to explore ; but before his return the dug- 
outs of the fishermen pulled alongside and the 
men came on board. 

From them we learned that the Kearsarge 




had indeed been burned. 
What was left was made up 
of the boilers and stem, ris- 
ing above the surf, together 
with one or two pieces of the 
side, washed farther up upon 
the reef. One of these pieces 
was even then burning, and 
as night came on the glow 
of the fire could be seen 
above the waves. Who had 
destroyed her no one knew. 
The exploring party returned 
at dark with precisely the 
same story to tell. The Kear- 
sarge had evidently been 
looted, then burned to the 
water's edge, and the storms 
of the previous week had 
entirely broken her up. Have 
you seen in the markets the big red fish called waters seemed full of them, and that even- 
red snapper — a fish like huge goldfish, but ing, anchored off Roncador, under the light 
weighing a great many pounds ? There the of the Southern Cross and gleaming Canopus, 







we amused ourselves pulling them in, though 
things were very quiet on board that night, 
the real purpose of the expedition having failed. 
Bright and early in the morning the boats 
"were lowered and manned, and all hands, offi- 
cers and crew, started for the wreck. After a 
pull of more than a mile, the water shoaling to 
within two or three feet, we left the boat, and, 
wading up to our knees, — caught now and then 
by a big wave that gave us a tumble in the 

surf, — we reached the first piece of the wreck, 
a large part of the port side, lying in the water, 
washed by the waves. Several hundred feet 
farther on an even larger section of the same 
side was out of the water, while just beyond, 
in the very heart of the breakers, very much in 
the position in which she must have struck, 
stood the stem of the Kearsarge, charred and 
blackened — this, with the boilers, being all 
that could be seen. 





Gathering then on the bigger piece of wreck, 
and being joined by the natives, fishermen and 
wreckers, — pirates, if you like, — the photograph 
was taken, and then, as the lieutenant was anx- 
ious to procure some of the old live-oak tim- 
ber, dynamite cartridges were inserted here 
and there, and a blasting began that continued 
throughout the day. 

While this was going on, some of us paid a 
visit to the key, or island ; for the reef extend- 
ing for ten miles is all below water save at the 
northwest end, where, for some thirty or forty 
acres, it rises seven or eight feet above the level 
of the sea. As we approach its shore not a green 
thing is seen save a sort of seaweed, or hardy 
moss, out of which the birds, pulling a few pieces 
together, make their nests — nothing else but 
great lumps of train-coral and stretches of sand. 

Admiral Stanton's headquarters and those of 
the other officers were still standing, for it was 
on that bit of sand, just out of the water, that 
they and the crew of the Kearsarge lived for 
over a week. As we looked at the sand, it 
seemed fairly to move on account of the myri- 
ads of crabs ! Swarms of fish darted about in 
the shallower waters, while turtles were seen in 
great numbers on shore. The things, however, 
of greatest interest were the thousands of birds 
— a large web-footed species called boobies. 

8l 7 

It was the hatching-time, and as we walked 
among them they did not try to fly away, 
but pecked at us savagely with large sharp bills 
if we came too near, flapping their wings and 
giving a vicious scream. The older birds are 
black, with white breasts, and are ugly, but the 
young are pure white — like great big balls of 
snow. We picked up a few relics scattered 
here and there on the sand — a dinner-bell, an 
old bayonet, some brass buttons on a tattered 
coat, a few bits of timber — these were all. 

That afternoon, about five o'clock, Lieu- 
tenant Forse having secured several tons of 
timber as relics for the Government, orders 
were given to return to the Orion. Anchor was 
weighed, and as the sun was setting we steamed 
away, with the glorious waters more beautiful 
than ever before, in all their thousand changing 
tints ! The air was filled with birds returning 
with food for their young, hovering like .a great 
black cloud over the little patch of sand. The 
schooners danced in the wake of our bigger 
vessel as the propeller churned the waters into 
foam, while the men in the dugouts waved a 
last good-by. Fainter and fainter grew the roar 
of the breakers as we moved away, and our last 
vision of Roncador was that line of sparkling 
breakers, flashing like a silvery sickle on the 
rim of the ocean, over against the evening sky. 


By Sally Campbell. 

On the memorable Fourth of July, 1776, the 
American Declaration of Independence had 
been adopted, and the delegates were in the act 
of signing their names to it. No doubt it was 
not without hesitation and some misgivings 
that our patriot forefathers came to their great 
resolve that day in Philadelphia, knowing, as 
they did, the grave import of what they were 
doing. One man signed his name, " Charles 
Carroll." Thereupon his associates began to 
whisper among themselves. Should the new 
confederacy be crushed by the mother country, 
punishment would surely fall upon the framers 
Vol. XXI. — 103. 

of this rebellious declaration. But it happened 
that there were a number of Charles Carrolls 
living in America at that time. So this Charles 
Carroll had a chance of escape, which none of 
his colleagues could look for. Presently the 
murmur reached the ears of the signer himself. 
Instantly turning back to the table, he picked 
up the pen again, and completed his signature 
in a way that left no doubt as to which Charles 
Carroll was accountable. And this is the hon- 
orable reason why that one signature, well re- 
membered by all Americans, stands out, different 
from the rest : " Charles Carroll of Carrollton." 


By Margaret Vandegrift. 

There was nobody in that devoted city 
Whom Mrs. O'Flaherty had not scorned; 
For she was a cook with a deep conviction 
That her profession she well adorned : 
But when she saw how she was taken, 
She sat her down, and she wept and 

The valiant few who resisted boldly, 
As a matter of course were taken first ; 
And the non-committal, who looked on 

As they deserved, were taken worst. 

Not one escaped from the doughty colonel ; 
" Oh, have n't you heard the news, my dear ? He nobody spared, or great or small. 
Everybody is wild with fear, Their flights and struggles were wor:;e than 

For old Colonel Camera useless, 

Has come to take the town." For at last they were taken, one and all. 

" What 's all this fuss about ? — 
This frantic rushing up and down ? " 

Right and left the people were running ; So, if you should meet this conquering hero, 

You could hear the fat ones pant and strive; Don't try to hide, or to run, or fight, 

And a bride and groom were shouting madly, But assume your very best expression, 

" We '11 never, never be taken alive ! " And put yourself in a pleasing light. 

POIJ Colonel G oners ^Jv^neing fe kke,lke T own-Affiff^ ^gSESSgl Q^BJM CB 

id a man unused io ba~bjes, 
/\S mindind one he sat , 
It s plain to see that he's 

cjoind to be 
^ y\. wonderful acrobat . 


By Thomas Winthrop Hall. 

" Now," said Uncle Jack, after he had firmly 
secured his Edison electric flying-machine to 
the ice with ice-anchors, " I '11 just take a few 
readings with my instruments, and then I fancy 
that we '11 know the exact location of the North 
Pole, for it cannot be more than a few feet 
away. In the mean time, Bob and Harry, help 
the girls out of the car." The two boys helped 
their cousins, Ethel and Laura, out of the won- 
derful machine in which they had started from 
their home in America only the previous morn- 
ing for a short visit to the North Pole. 

" I do believe if I were only on the horizon," 
cried Ethel, " I could reach up and touch the 

" It does look as though you could," an- 
swered Bob, — "more so than it does at sun- 
set at home." 

" Light plays all sorts of queer tricks in this 

latitude," said Uncle Jack ; " but light is not 
the only queer thing about go° north, as I will 
show you in a few minutes. Ah, here we are. 
Now, boys and girls, the lower extremity of this 
plummet just touches the actual physical end 
of the North Pole. I '11 just make a cross on 
the ice to locate the exact spot, and then you 
can take turns standing on the top of the North 
Pole of the earth." 

After the mark had been made, the two boys 
and two girls took turns at standing on the 
spot, and each declared laughingly that it 
made him or her feel dizzy. 

" It ought not to," said Uncle Jack ; " for this 
spot and the corresponding one at the South 
Pole have simpler motions than any other 
places on the earth's surface. Every other has 
a circular motion around the diameter of which 
this is one end, as you know, and the angular 



velocity of some points is very great indeed ; it 
becomes greater as you near the equator. This 
point has but a motion around the sun. All 
other places have a combined motion — a mo- 
tion around the sun added to a motion around 
the axis. This point merely traces an ellipse in 
space as it flies around the sun. The others 
generate spirals. Now, Harry, as you are still 
standing on the Pole, please tell me what time 
it is?" 

Harry pulled out his watch, and looking at it, 
told his uncle that it was half-past one o'clock. 

" In New York, you mean," said his uncle; 
" and it is here, too, for that matter. But so is 
it any other time. It is half-past ten o'clock, 
or three o'clock, or any other time in the 
twenty-four hours that you wish it, and to-day 
may even be to-morrow or yesterday." 

" Now you 're joking, Uncle Jack," exclaimed 

" Not at all," Uncle Jack replied. " Time in 
reality merely measures the distance between 
different meridians. Each meridian has its 
own time : all the meridians meet at this spot, 
so any instant here is any particular time that 
you wish to call it within the limit of twenty- 
four hours." 

" I should think that would be very con- 
venient for people who are inclined to procras- 
tinate," said Harry. 

, " And very inconvenient for ladies who send 
out invitations to dinner at a certain time," 
added Ethel. 

" You see, time is really identical with eter- 
nity here," continued Uncle Jack. " Go a 
fractional part of an inch away from the Pole, 
and time has a value. You, Harry and Bob, 
shake hands over the spot I have marked. 
Now, it may be midnight where Harry is and 
high noon where Bob is, and yet they are 
shaking hands with each other. At any rate, 
there is twelve hours' difference in the time 
of their respective localities. Now, Ethel, stand 

over the cross-mark, and hold out your arms 
so that they will point in opposite directions. 
Now, which way do you face ? " 

"South," Ethel answered. 

" And which way does your right hand 
point ? " 

" Why, it points south, too," said Ethel, after 
a moment's reflection. " I was trying to deter- 
mine whether it pointed east or west." 

" And your left hand ? " 

" South also." 

" And what is at your back ? " 

" The south." 

" That 's right. Now, suppose you were to 
walk in any direction ? " 

" I 'd walk due south no matter which way I 

" We have all sorts of wind at home. What 
kinds of wind do they have here, Bob ? " 

" They 're all south winds, sir ; and they 're 
pretty cold for south winds, too." 

"Yes, and all currents of water flow to the 
south. How would the compass point here, 

" Both ends would point south, sir." 

" Now we have an infinite variety of longi- 
tude here. What latitude have we, Laura ? " 

" Ninety degrees, north." 

" Yes, and it 's the only place in the world 
that has that latitude, although ordinary lati- 
tudes are common to a great many places. 
Now, where is the north star ? " 

" It must be directly above us, sir." 

" Yes, almost but not quite at the zenith, for 
the Pole does not point exactly to it. It 
would n't be much of a guide to the escaping 
slave in these latitudes, would it ? Now, boys 
and girls, cut out a chunk of ice to take away 
as a souvenir, plant your American flag in the 
hole, and we '11 start for home, for I promised 
to have you back in time for supper to-morrow 
evening, and I don't want your mothers and 
fathers to worry about you." 



, John Dory, tell the story of the night 
When the Pinna gave a dinner to the Trout. 

It was surely (yet not purely) a delight, 
Though attended — ay, and 
ended — with a rout. 

But every fish-un of condition sure was there 
From the Cuttle down to little Tommy Spra 
From the Urchin who was perchin' on the 
To the Tunny -in his funny beaver 

The Swordfish, like the lord 

fish that he is, 
Brought the Pilot, say 

ing, '■' Thy lot 

shall be 

mine ! " 
The Guffer tried 

to huff her 

with a 


he Gurnet look- 
ed so stern, it made 
him whine. 




When the Winkle, with a twinkle in his eye, 
Led the Codfish (such an odd fish ! ) to the 

Cried the Mullet, " Oh ! my gullet is so dry, 
I could swallow half the hollow sea at least ! " 

The Frogfish and the Dogfish followed next, 
And the Sturgeon was emergeon from his lair, 

And the Herring by his bearing was perplexed, 
But the Tinker, as a thinker, did n't care. 

The Cobbler — such a gobbler as he was ! — 

Why, the Blenny had n't anything to eat ; 
And the Trunk-fish grew a shrunk fish, just 
The Plaice there said the Dace there was so 

V. The Torpedo said, " To feed, oh ! is my joy. 

Let me wallow, let me swallow at my will ! " 
Cried the Shark then, "Here 's a lark, then; 

come, my boy, 
Give a rouse now — we '11 carouse now to 

our fill!" 


The Dolphin was engulfin' ginger-beer, 
Though the Porgy said, " How logy 
he will be ! " 

i8 9 4-] 



And the Scallop gave a wallop as they handed him a 
And the Sculpin was a-gulpin' of his tea — deary me! 
How that Sculpin was a-gulpin' of his tea ! 

I, John Dory, to my glory be it said, 

Took no part in such cavortin' as above : 
With the Sunfish (ah, the one fish ! ) calm I fed, 

And, grown bolder, softly told her of my love. 

But the Conger cried, "No longer shall this be ! " \ 
And the Trout now said, " No doubt now it 
must end." 
Said the Tench then from his bench then, 
" Count on me ! " 
And the Salmon cried, " I am on hand, my 
friend ! " 

Then we cut on to each glutton as he swam, 
And we hit them, and we bit them in the tail; 

And the Lamprey struck the damp prey with a Clam, 
And the Goby made the foe be very pale; 

The Gudgeon, not begrudgeon of his force, 
Hit the Cunner quite a stunner on the head ! 

And the Mussel had a tussle with the Horse, 
And the Whiting kept a-fighting till they fled. 

W \ : kM. 

• ■■ "=S®5l 




By Thomas Tapper. 

I don't see why the people call 
This Independence Day, at all. 
" I would n't do that if I were you," 
Is all I 've heard the whole day through. 


A Tale o£- 



By J. William Fosdick. 

It was the third of July, and sundown. 
Harry Barton sat upon the front stoop, anx- 
iously waiting for his supper. 

He was anxious to be off to the village, where 
his friends were preparing for the Fourth. 

It was to be a memorable Fourth for him, 
as he had been elected captain of the " Studle- 
funk Cadets," who were to have a mock parade 
the next morning, at six o'clock. 

Money had been collected and a prize offered 
to the most grotesque costume in the procession. 

Now Harry, like most New England farm 
boys, was poor, and, with a determination to 
win the prize of ten dollars, he had ransacked 
the attic for queer old hats and long-tailed 
coats. All alone, in the musty old attic, by 
the light of a candle, he had gone through a 
dress rehearsal the night before. As he put on 
the finishing touches, with burnt cork and red 
paint, he had exploded with laughter; for the 
old coat, which was well stuffed out with pil- 
lows, burst down the back, and buttons flew 
off in all directions. Yes; so sure was he of 
winning the prize, that he could almost feel 
the ten silver dollars in his trousers pocket. 

" If Joe were only here," he murmured, " how 
he would have helped me ! " But Joe, the farm- 

VOL. XXI.— I04. 8: 

hand who had been Harry's playfellow, had 
been long absent from the neighborhood. 

Whenever Harry had wanted a boat rigged, 
a popgun made, or a rabbit-trap mended, Joe 
had always cheerfully done the work. One 
day (the boy's mother will never forget it) Harry 
wandered down to the river-bank, and, trying 
to capture a turtle with a speckled back, he 
lost his balance and fell into the swift current. 
Joe was plowing in a field not far away, and 
arrived in time to save the boy's life. This 
was the principal reason why Harry loved Joe. 
But Joe, like so many New England farm lads, 
had an attack of " western fever." He drew all 
his savings from the bank and left for Texas. 

Harry was just thinking that it was three 
years ago that very third of July since he and 
Joe had tearfully parted, when he saw a ragged, 
slouching figure coming slowly up the lane. 

" Another tramp," thought he, as he glanced 
at the weather-worn coat fluttering in the 
breeze, the battered hat, and the broken shoes. 

As the man approached the stoop, with the 
old hat drawn well down over his eyes, Harry 
rose and shook his head, as if to say, " Nothing 
for you." But the tramp walked straight up 
to Harry and, uncovering his bronzed face, 




held out his hand. Joe ? Surely this weather- 
beaten face could not be that of his old friend. 
Yet it was, and Joe had a dismal tale to tell of 
his wanderings. 

He had not succeeded well in that west- 
ern country, and, having lost all his savings, 
had tramped his way back to Tinborough after 
three years of fruitless wanderings. " Could 
not Harry help his old friend ? " 

down the lane, where he managed to bring 
some supper. Joe ate more like a famished 
beast than a man. After he was refreshed he 
told Harry that he would gladly try for the 
ten-dollar prize, which, naturally, seemed a for- 
tune to him. The following morning two ridicu- 
lously clad figures with masked faces stole away 
from the farm in the direction of Tinborough. 
They went most of the way "cross lots," 


Tears were in Harry's eyes when the "tramp" 
finished his story, and the boy began to think 
how he might help Joe. Suddenly he jumped 
up and slapped his shabby companion so hard 
on the back as nearly to knock him over. He 
had a bright idea : Joe must win the ten-dollar 
prize to-morrow ! He was almost grotesque 
enough to win it just as he stood. 

Now Harry feared that his father might not 
be cordial even to Joe, at least not until he 
looked more respectable ; for Farmer Barton 
classed all wanderers as worthless ne'er-do-wells, 
and he would not have them about the place. 

So Harry took Joe to an old corn-house 

so as not to be seen until the 
grand procession started; but, in 
passing through Widow Bennett's 
barn-yard, they unexpectedly en- 
countered the good woman at her 
milking. She took one look at 
them, and that was enough. Away went milk 
and stool, while the widow and cow vied with 
each other in trying to escape around the 
corner of the barn. No harm was done, and 
when their fits of laughter became less fre- 
quent, and they had recovered breath, the two 
oddities went on to the village; but in crossing 
the village green they had another adventure 

Before his door stood Deacon Barnes's old 
horse and buggy. The old gentleman was 
starting off bright and early to bring his 
daughter from a neighboring village, so that 
she might witness the procession. 

The deacon called this lame, bony old horse 
"Gunpowder"; but the boys of the village 
had of their own accord named him " Cold 
Molasses," because they had found that that 
was the slowest-moving thing in the world. 
The old deacon cast but one frightened 




glance over his shoulder, and then scrambled 
into his buggy. There was a grand clatter and 
crash, and old Gunpowder went tearing down 
the street, his legs swinging with the awkward- 
ness of a rickety windmill. Nightcapped heads 
were thrust forth, and had the good people 
seen Deacon Barnes flying through the air, 
they would not have been more astonished. 

The boys hurried away to an empty barn 
which had been agreed upon as the meeting- 
place for the Cadets. Upon entering through 
a side door, they found themselves in what 
seemed a hobgoblin world. A shout went up 
from fifty terrible-looking creatures, who proved 
to be the " Studlefunk Cadets." 

Bits of broken looking-glass had been nailed 
to doors and walls, and in the dim light 
these uncanny fellows were putting on finishing- 
touches, all the while performing elfish pranks. 
In the center of the floor was a tip-cart, and 
while some boys were dressing the horse in 
blue overalls, others had put a 
log of wood in the cart and 
were painting it black to look 
like a cannon. This was the 
Studlefunk Artillery. 

Here Harry and Joe came 
across an old " Rip Van Winkle," 
who peered at them through 
his long hair and beard of hemp 
rope, and said in a shaky voice, 
" Are you anudder brudder ? " 
A drum-major was superb with 
his immense fur cap made 
out of a huge moth-eaten muff 
which his grandmother had 
carried when a bride, nearly fifty 
years before. His baton was a 
broomstick topped by abrass ball. 

The Studlefunk Band was rehearsing in the 
hay-loft. Their music was certainly in keeping 
with their appearance. A more outlandish com- 
pany could not be imagined. The tallest mem- 
ber wore an immense fool's cap and blew a 
terrible blast on a huge fish-horn. 

The boys were all chattering together, and 
when Harry went among them, he was told in 
strictest confidence that Tinborough would 
long remember this Fourth. He also heard 
allusions to a "big bonfire." 

In spite of his questioning, it was not until 
afterward that Harry learned the secret. In 
the outskirts of the town, in a field next to the 
Agricultural Grounds, where the races would 
take place, stood the old and abandoned shell 
of a farm-house. One of the most reckless of the 
boys had planned in strictest secrecy to make a 
huge bonfire of this ancient pile. 

In the neighboring woods a tar-barrel and shav- 
ings soaked in oil had been hidden ; and when 
the dance at the Fair Grounds was at its height, 
he meant to "show the crowd the biggest 
Fourth of July blaze ever seen in the county " ! 

At last the Studlefunks were ready ; the 
doors were thrown wide open, and the Cadets 
marched forth into the early morning sunlight, 
where they looked even stranger than before. 
They had the place of honor in the parade 
that wended its way to the Fair Grounds. 

The selectmen were to view the procession 
from the grand stand, and about them were 


grouped all the pride and beauty of the village. 
Every girl hoped that her own brother would 
win the prize. 

The Widow Bennett was there, looking none 
the worse for her morning adventure; and, not 
far away, Deacon Barnes and his rosy-cheeked 
daughter sat in the old buggy, which, although 
more shaky than ever, still hung together. 

But old Gunpowder — alas! he had run his 
last and only race. He stood — yes, just stood, 
that is all — with lowered head and drooping 




ears, and though the Studlefunk Brigade Band 
played their loudest beneath his very nose, he 
did not so much as look at them. 

A wonderful procession it proved, outlan- 
dish and comical. As it moved around the 
race-track it looked like a huge many-colored 
serpent, and the din it made was heard at 
Middleborough Corners, four miles away. 

Every boy played his best and loudest, and, 
when it drew near the grand stand, the girls 
all put their fingers in their ears. As they 
passed the judge's stand each cadet did his 
best to excel all others, 
not only by his ridicu- 
lous attire, but by antics 
of every description. 

At last the anxious 
moment arrived. The 
Cadets were drawn up 
in line, and although 
every girl exclaimed, 
"Oh, I know my brother 
will win ! " some of 
them noticed that the 
judge was watching the 
remarkable tumblings of 
a stranger who wore an 
ancient yellow beaver of great 
size profusely decorated with feathers 
from an old duster. His coat was 
very long in the tails and had huge 
brass buttons. He wore knee- 
breeches, and shoes with great silver 

First of all he put his hat on the 
ground and turned " cart-wheels " all 
around it. Then he picked it up 
with his teeth and cleverly tossed it on his 
head, while keeping his hands in his pockets. 

Several girls all but cried with vexation, 
while Harry Barton was overjoyed, when the 
judge rose with ten glittering silver dollars in 
his hand, and said to the disguised stranger: 

" Please step forward and give your name. 
You have won the prize." 

To the surprise of all, the winner raised his 
great beaver hat, disclosing a rough head of 
unkempt hair, and, making a low bow, said : 

" I am Joe, just simply Joe, as once did chores 
for Farmer Barton ; that 's all, your honor." 

A great shout went up as Joe received his 
money. Then he and Harry made their way 
to the refreshment-tent, where Joe had a feast 
such as he had not enjoyed for many a long day. 

In the afternoon there were bicycle-races, 
horse-races — in fact, every imaginable kind of 
race — which Harry longed to see, but Joe, 
weary and footsore with long weeks of tramp- 
ing, and made sleepy by his unusual feast, pre- 
ferred to take a nap in some shady place. 

Harry saw him limp away through the 
crowd, but soon forgot all about Joe in watch- 

ing the exciting races, and in the noise and 
animation of the scene. 

In the evening the Tinborough Brass Band 
played on a stand erected in the center of a 
wooden floor laid expressly for the dancers. A 
big crowd of mothers, aunts, and lookers-on 
stood about the edges. 

Kerosene lamps and a few Japanese lanterns 
were hung about, dimly lighting the scene. 

Suddenly, when every one was gayest, a red- 
dish glow lighted up the faces of the dancers, 
and the cry of " Fire ! " was raised. Yes, sure 
enough, the old farm-house was ablaze! The 





flames were curling in and out of the paneless 
windows of the lower floors. 

Harry hurried to the fire with the rest. He 
found the Studlefunk Cadets lurking about the 
edges, trying hard to look as if they knew noth- 
ing about it. If any one had told the boy who 
set the fire that he had committed a criminal act 
he would have been astonished, but such was the 
case. Soon the whole lower portion of the old 
tinder-box was a sheet of flame, and the crowd 
was cheering lustily at this magnificent bonfire. 
But suddenly their faces blanched, for above 
the roar of the flames they heard an agonizing 
cry, "Help! Help!" 

And then in an upper window they beheld 
the figure of a man outlined against the flame. 

Harry looked for but an instant. He knew 
as soon as he heard the voice that it was Joe, 
and he felt a cold shiver run down his back, 
while his legs almost gave way under him. 

Harry showed wonderful presence of mind 
that night. Quick as thought, he seized an ax 
which had been used in building the dancing- 
platform, and calling the Cadets to follow, ran 
as fast as his trembling legs could carry him 
in the direction of the big flag-pole that stood 
in the center of the Fair Crounds. 

The flames were closing in about the little 
window in the peak of the roof. The crowd 
yelled, " Don't jump; a ladder is coming 
But, indeed, Joe was afraid to jump. 

Alas! before the ladder could come, 
it would be too late. A groan went 
up from the crowd. Joe crawled 
out and hung from the sill, to 
hold on as long as he could. 

He closed his eyes in 
terror, and was just 
about to let 
go when 
he heard a 
yell from 
the boys. 
his foot. 
Then it 
came up 
to mm. THE RESCUE 0F j OE 

He looked 
over his shoul- 
der and be- 
held a gold 
ball on the 
end of a long 
pole, while be- 
low and flap- 
ping madly in 
the hot air 
were the Stars 
and Stripes ! 

He needed 
not to be told 
what to do. 
In an instant 
he was astride 
the pole, and 
in another in- 
stant he shot 
down into the 
arms of Harry 
and the boys. 



for a quiet 

place where he 

might take his nap, 

Joe had, quite by 

accident, chosen the 

deserted house. 

In the years that 
followed, Harry nev- 
er regretted his kind- 
ness to Joe. When Mr. 
Barton died, not long 
afterward, and Joe, 
having been stead- 
ily at work until that 
time, became Harry's 
right-hand man, we 
may be sure he did his 
work well, for the Bar- 
ton farm was famous 
as the richest farm in 
Worcester County. 


By Garrett Newkirk. 

: 26- Axles. 



Note. — In shape, Rhode Island somewhat resembles a plowshare. 



'^^sJp^S^tXP^i'J-! The State of Connecticut •. 
' : ^lk^^i-/^fT%^J- 'You may know on the map, 
^<*i(/'£'%''''^'" ; ' v® Because it resembles 

mfflBwm Alittleb °y; sca p-^ 

8 3 i 


How hard, on composition day, 

For kittens to know just what to say ! 

But easy 't is for all to sing: 
■'The cat ran off with the pudding-bag string," 
Or, "Ding, dong bell, 
Pussy 's in the well! 
Oh, what a naughty boy was that 
To go and drown poor pussy cat!" 


Happy little Frog ! Of course he was going 
to see what Bobby, and Nelly, and Mamie, and 
Lee, and Louis, and Edyth, and Philip intended 
to do. Afraid of fire-crackers ? — who ? he ? No, 
indeed ! So he did not heed his mother's warning, but hopped off to the 
lovely grove at Woodreve, the children's summer home. 

The nurses Kate, and Annie, and Mary spread a nice luncheon of cake 
and lemonade on the grass under the trees. It was very warm, and the 
children played, and swung, and fired torpedoes, and set off fire-crackers. 
They were getting restless and tired, when Bobby said : " Let 's fill a tomato- 
can with fire-crackers, turn it bottom up, tilt it a little, and set fire to one of 
the crackers with a match tied to a long pole." The plan was hailed with 
delight. So they fixed it all, and then sat down to enjoy the great fright of 
the nurses, who were sewing and knitting under a tree not very far from the 
can, but with their backs to it. 

The little frog had been hiding in the grass near by, and he did not un- 
derstand at all why everything was suddenly quiet — so he hopped, and he 
hopped, and he hopped, and at last he hopped up on the can, so that he might 
see better. There he sat, puffed out with pride and staring all about, while 
the children stared back at the foolish fellow, — when bang! bang! went the 
crackers, — up went the can, — and over went little Mr. Frog into a black- 
berry bush! The nurses screamed, the little girls shrieked, the lemon- 
ade was turned over, the cake upset, Edyth's bottle of milk was 
broken, and such a time ! But 
it did not last long, for fresh 
supplies came from the house. 
One of the ladies came out to 
ask what was the matter ; and 
then all the children told the 
story, and laughed and laughed, 
at the fun. But the little froe 
rubbed his legs and scratched 
his head, wondering what had 
happened, and then hopped 
away to his home as fast as he 
could go — the most surprised 
little frog that ever saw a 
Fourth of July. BANG , BAKG| 

Vol. XXI. — 105. 833 

.. -i^. 


The steamer " El Norte," of the Morgan Line, which 
arrived here yesterday from New Orleans, reported a 
most remarkable mirage, or reflection, or whatever it 
was, seen off Hatteras on March iSth. On that day the 
mite of the ship, who was on duty, saw away to the 
westward a big bank of fog. The sea was smooth and 
the sun was shining. As he looked at the bank of fog 
lying off to the westward he saw the " counterfeit pre- 
sentment " of about twenty-eight schooners outlined 
against the bank. Some were beating north against the 
wind, and some were sailing south before the wind. Al- 
though the weather was clear, a mist would every now 
and then settle down about the steamer and blot out the 
picture of the sailing vessels outlined on the fog-bank. 
Then the mist would disappear as suddenly as it had ap- 
peared, and the sailing schooners were seen hurrying 
north and south again. The spectacle began at six o'clock 
in the morning and lasted until eight o'clock. 

Many people on the ship saw it. It was not like an 
ordinary mirage, but appeared to be some peculiar re- 
fraction of light from the morning sun which pictured 
the sailing schooners against the cloud-bank. No one of 
the schooners whose reflection was seen was above the 
horizon. The first officer said that some of the schooners 
could be seen with masts and sails and hulls above the 
water-line distinctly portrayed, while of others only the 
sails could be seen, and some of them were cut short off 
in the middle, and others did not show their topmasts. — 
JVezc York Tribune. 


" It seems quite possible that the swallow will prove 
a successful rival to the carrier-pigeon in its peculiar line 
of service, "said a gentleman from Washington, D. C, who 
was at the Southern Hotel last night. " I know a man 
who has been experimenting with these birds for years, 
and who managed to tame them and make them love 
their cage so that they will invariably return to it after a 
few hours' liberty. The speed of these messengers can 
be judged from a single experiment. The man of whom 
I speak once caught an untrained swallow which had its 

nest on his farm. He put the bird in a basket and gave 
it to a friend who was going to a city 150 miles distant, 
telling him to turn the bird loose on his arrival there, 
and telegraph him as soon as the bird was set free. This 
was done, and the bird reached home in one hour and a 
half. Their great speed and diminutive forms would 
especially recommend swallows for use in war, as it would 
not be an easy matter to shoot such carriers on the 
wing." — The St. Louis Globe- Democrat. 


What trees bear the largest leaves? An English 
botanist tells us that it is those that belong to the palm 
family. First must be mentioned the Inaja palm, of the 
banks of the Amazon, the leaves of which are no less 
than 50 feet in length by 10 to 12 in width. Certain 
leaves of the Ceylon palm attain a length of 20 feet, and 
the remarkable width of 16. The natives use them for 
making tents. Afterward comes the cocoanut-palm, the 
usual length of whose leaves is about 30 feet. The um- 
brella magnolia of Ceylon bears leaves that are so large 
that a single one may sometimes serve as a shelter for 15 
or 20 persons. 

One of these leaves carried to England as a specimen 
was nearly 36 feet in width. The plant whose leaves 
attain the greatest dimensions in our temperate climate 
is the Victoria regia. A specimen of this truly magnifi- 
cent plant exists in the garden of the Royal Botanical 
Society of Edinburgh. Its leaf, which is about seven 
feet in diameter, is capable of supporting a weight of 395 
pounds. — The Scientific American. 


A GENTLEMAN from this city was rowing down through 
the Narrows in a small boat one evening about two weeks 
ago, when his attention was attracted to a pair of night- 
herons which were standing upon a large rock near the 
water's edge. The discharge of a gun by a man con- 
cealed among the bushes on the river's bank was heard, 
and the birds took to their wings, uttering cries of dis- 
tress as they flew. When nearly an eighth of a mile off, 
one of them was seen to falter, and it soon fell into the 
river. As his boat drew near, the gentleman perceived 
that the bird was wounded, and was swimming confi- 
dently toward him, as though claiming protection and 
help. He extended one of his oars, and the bird seized 
it with his sharp claws and suffered himself to be lifted 
out of the water. Upon examination, the gentleman 
found that the bird's right wing was broken, and that 
fractured bones were protruding. A linen handkerchief 
furnished bandages for the bleeding wing, until, upon ar- 
riving at New Castle, the wound was properly dressed 
by a surgeon, who admired the fortitude of his feathered 
patient during the painful operation. Portions of the 
bone had to be removed, but the doctor thought it possi- 
ble for the bird to live if carefully nursed. Our friend 




brought the bird to this city, and under careful treatment 
it soon regained its wonted health and strength, and was 
pronounced a " perfect beauty " by many ladies who 
called to see him. The wound healed rapidly, and the 
heron was allowed to go in quest of his mate as soon as 
he could fly. — Manchester {N. IT.) Union. 


The sealing schooners " Allie I. Algar" and " Henry 
Dennis," owned by J. C. Nixon, have been heard from, 
Mr. Nixon having recently received letters from Captains 
Wester and Miner. The letters were written from Port 
Lloyd, Bonin Islands, where both vessels arrived Febru- 
ary 8th, the Dennis dropping anchor just three hours 
after the Algar. Before the schooners left here some of 
the hunters offered $200 as a reward for the one which 
made the shortest time from Cape Flattery to Bonin 
Islands. The Algar left here December 17th and the 
Dennis December 24th. The former's sailing time across 
the Pacific was forty-seven days, and the Dennis's forty- 
three days. The Algar lost four days at Honolulu, but 
this cannot be counted out. Mr. Nixon thinks it re- 
markable that two vessels should race 8000 miles and be 
so close together at the finish. He also thinks it the long- 
est race on record. — The Seattle Post-Intelligencer. 


The phenomenon known as lightning, followed by a 
.rolling, reverberating report, recognized as thunder, is 
common to a wide zone of the earth, but it is not gener- 
ally known that there are localities where the vivid flashes 
and the deafening peals are incessant. The most notable 
of these continuous lightning districts is on the eastern 
coast of the island of San Domingo, a leading member of 
the group of the West Indies. It is not meant that the 
lightning is here continuous the year round, but that, 
with the commencement of the rainy season, comes the 
zigzag electric illumination, which is then continuous, 
day and night, for weeks. The storm-center is not 
always in one place, but shifts over a considerable area, 
and, as thunder is seldom heard over a greater distance 
than eight miles, and the lightning in the night will illu- 
minate so as to be seen thirty miles, there may be days 
in some localities where the twinkle on the sky is con- 
stantly kept up, while the rolling reports cannot be heard. 
Then again come days and nights when the electric artil- 
lery is piercing in its thunderclaps; and especially is 
this the case when two separate local cloud-centers join, 
as it were, in an electric duel, and, as sometimes occurs, 
a third participant appears to add to the elemental war- 
fare. Then there is a blazing sky with blinding yivid- 
ness and stunning peals that seem to hold the listener to 
the earth. — The Pittsburg Dispatch. 


Professor Fritch, of Germany, states that his ap- 
paratus for photographing projectiles in flight is the in- 
vention of a little Scotch boy, named Vernon, twelve 
years old. — San Francisco Argonaut. 


There is a man in Washington who has a most un- 
common name. His mother was on the lookout for 

something original, and one day, before his christening, 
she noticed on the door of a building the word " Nosmo. " 
This struck her fancy. Now, for a middle name. Later, 
coming along by the same building, she saw on the door 
the name "King." Ah, this was what she was after! 
" Nosmo King Jones he shall be," she said, and he was 
christened so. On the way home from church after the 
christening she passed the same building again. Both 
the doors were closed, and behold 1 the doors with the 
names on them she had selected were shut together, and 
she read, not "Nosmo King." but "No Smoking," and 
her heart was grieved. — The Boston Home Journal. 


I was hunting duck on the Platte River in Nebraska, 
when my horse fell, throwing me under him. In the 
fall he broke his leg and I my foot. I lay under the 
horse. The animal looked at me and desperately tried 
to get up, but could not, owing to its broken leg. I 
could not move from pain and the weight of the horse. 
After a number of attempts at trying to extricate myself, 
I gave up in despair. Finally, with a human look in its 
eyes, that horse arched its sides and with a great effort 
rolled completely over, away from me. This released me, 
but I could not rise. My dog, who had been barking and 
jumping around, at once ran away at full speed, bark- 
ing. In twenty minutes he returned, and with him a 
farm-hand, who said that the dog had attracted his atten- 
tion by running up to him and whining and then run- 
ning toward where I was lying. Finally the man fol- 
lowed him. I was carried to a farm-house and cared for, 
but not until I gave orders that my horse should be 
cared for, his leg set, and his life saved if possible. He 
is alive. So is the dog, and they romp together in the 
meadow at my farm. The horse cannot be used, so I 've 
made him a pensioner. — St. Louis Globe-Democrat. 


Both the Queen of Portugal and the Queen Regent 
of Spain have distinguished themselves by saving life. 
The Portuguese queen threwherself into the Tagus on one 
occasion to save her children from drowning ; while the 
Queen Regent of Spain rescued a little girl, not long ago, 
from a railway-train that was rapidly approaching a level 
crossing on which the child was playing. — San Francisco 


It would seem that kindergarten, or something like it, 
has spread to Japan. One of the schools in the Royal 
University of Tokio is held in a building so constructed 
that three sides or wings of the structure inclose a large 
court. This space is carefully leveled and covered with 
white sand, and in this sand is a map of Japan, laid out with 
the most mathematical accuracy as regards proportions 
and directions. The sand represents, of course, the seas 
which surround the Island Empire, and the loam, which 
represents the land, has little hillocks and elevations to 
represent mountains and table-lands, and corresponding 
depressions for valleys. The location of cities is dis- 
tinctly marked, bays and gulfs are seen, and all the little 
interior islands are shown in the proper proportion of 
their size and distance from the main island. — The West- 
ern Stationer. 



Dear St. Nicholas : The Black Bear inhabits a great 
man y of the States and Territories of our country, a num- 
ber of the Provinces of Canada and the Northwest Terri- 
tory, and Alaska. It is a conspicuous and an interesting 

It is in my mind that a number of your bright boys 
and girls might enjoy a bit of original zoological work, 
with a prize or two at the end of it. If you will consent 
to print a full-page map of North America, showing the 
work of the leading prize-winner, St. Nicholas might 
let the subject for investigation be : What parts of North 
America have been inhabited by the Black Bear during 
the last fifteen years ? 

The time allowed shall be seventy-five days from July 
I, 1894, and results must be submitted by September 1=;, 
1S94. Judgment will be rendered by the undersigned, 
subject to the concurrence of Dr. J. A. Allen, of the Ameri- 
can Museum of Natural History, New York, and the re- 
sult will be announced in the Christmas number of St. 
Nicholas. The competition shall be governed by the 

conditions : 

(1) An observation is considered authentic only when 

based on an animal that was seen, or killed, or its 
skin seen, by a reliable person, who vouches for 
its locality. A skull fully identified as having 
belonged to a Black Bear (not a cinnamon or griz- 
zly) is satisfactory evidence. 

(2) With every locality listed must be given the year 

(month not essential) when the observation was 
made, the name of the observer, and, if copied 
from a printed report or article, the name of the 
publication is necessary. 

(3) It is not desirable to list localities that are less than 

100 miles apart in the same State, or Territory. 

(4) This inquiry relates to the geographical distribution 

of the Black Bear only (Ursus Americamts), and 
not the cinnamon, nor " brown bear," nor grizzly. 
The cinnamon is to be regarded as a distinct va- 

(5) Unsigned statements in newspapers are not to be 

considered as satisfactory authority unless verified 
in some way by the competitor. 

(6) This inquiry is to cover observations made during 

the past fifteen years onlv, or dating back to Jan- 
uary 1, 1878. Observations prior to that time 
will not count. 

(7) This competition is open to any subscriber or regular 

reader of St. Nicholas eighteen years of age and 
under. The competitor may receive advice from 
older persons as to the best methods to pursue in 
seeking information, or in regard to books, papers, 
collections, or correspondents likely to vield in- 
formation. Any person may be asked for facts 
drawn from his own observations or collections, 
but aside from that the actual research and corre- 
spondence must be done by the competitor alone, 
and so certified with his list. This is required be- 
cause the chief object of this offer is to stimulate 
original inquiry on a scientific subject. 
Suggestions. — Consult the museum bulletins and re- 
ports of scientific societies in the libraries nearest you ; 
glance through the latest books of North American travel 
and explorations ; inspect the museum collections within 
yosr reach ; consult the files of Forest and Stream, The 

Field, and similar publications; question all hunters and 
travelers within reach; write to " The Postmaster " of 
the town or village nearest to any locality believed to 
contain the Black Bear, inclose a stamp, and ask him to 
give you the names and addresses of one or two reliable 
sportsmen who can tell you about places inhabited by the 
Black Bear. Yours very truly, 


St. Nicholas heartily accepts Mr. Hornaday's sug- 
gestions, as set forth in this welcome letter, and gladly 
offers the following prizes : 

For the best list of localities, dates, and authorities, 
according to the conditions named for the competition, 
Fifteen Dollars and an autograph copy of Mr. //ornaday's 
" Two Years in the Jungle.'' 1 For the second best list, 
Ten Dollars and an autograph copy of Mr. Hornadtiv's 
" Taxidermy and Zoological Collecting." And for the 
third best list, Five Dollars. 


The full-page picture printed on page 656 of the May 
number was copied for St. Nicholas from a painting 
by Miss Maria Brooks, entitled "A Fine Lady," and 
owned by Mrs. Walter Watson, Jr., who kindly gave her 
consent to its reproduction in our pages. 

Contributors are respectfully informed that between 
the 1st of June and the 15th of September manuscripts 
cannot conveniently be examined at the office of St. N ich- 
olas. Consequently, those who desire to favor the mag- 
azine with contributions will please postpone sending 
their MSS. until after the last-named date. 

We owe to Mr. Charles Battell Loomis both an apol- 
ogy for an oversight and our thanks for the following 
good-natured letter in which he calls attention to our 
mistake. The illustrated verse, "A Model Speller," on 
page 627 of the May St. Nicholas, was wrongly cred- 
ited, in the table of contents of that number, to Mr. 
Malcolm Douglas. It was really written by Mr. Loomis, 
and we sincerely regret that he did not receive the credit 
due him. In his letter, he says : 


Dear St. Nicholas : By your courtesy the May 
number of your ever-charming magazine lies before me. 

A perusal of the table of contents tells me that my 
name is Malcolm Douglas, whose bit of nonsense verse, 
" A Model Speller," I know that I wrote. And yet I 
don't recollect having written the two clever rhymes, by 
Malcolm Douglas, on page 596. 

A five-year reader of " Our Young Folks," I began 
twenty-one years ago to read St. Nicholas, and I have 
never had cause to regret it, even though I was never 
represented in its pages. When I received this copy I 
felt a peculiar pride in the thought that at last my name 




was to appear in the magazine that had brought delight 
to my boyish heart for so many years, and when I gazed 
upon the name of Malcolm Douglas I felt that I had not 
lived in vain. Yet to my boys I will still be known by 
the old familiar name (to them) of 
(Yours very sincerely) 

Charles Battell Loomis. 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I am a boy fourteen years old. 
We get you every month, and I like you very much. I 
have made up a little story about you, which I thought 
the readers of the " Letter-Box " might like to see. 

Here it is. I will call it " A Dream about St. Nicho- 
las." The other night I dreamed that, while out walk- 
ing with "Tom Paulding," a friend of mine, we met 
"Two Girls and a Boy," who said they were going to ex- 
plore " The White Cave." One of the girls said that her 
name was " Marjorie, and Her Papa " was going to join 
them at a certain turn in the road. The other girl's 
name was " Polly Oliver," and she asked us shortly how 
and when " Hollyberry and Mistletoe " first came to be 
used for Christmas decoration. 

The boy was"Toinette's Philip," and he said : " ' When 
I Was Your Age ' I went with ' Tom Sawyer Abroad,' and 
spent ' Six Years in the Wilds of Central Africa.' 

" The ' Recollections of the Wild Life ' there are al- 
ways with me," he added. 

We determined to join them, and on our way we dis- 
cussed "The Fortunes of Toby Trafford," and speculated 
as to how it was that he came to be " Crowded Out o' 
Crofield." We all agreed that "The Boy Settlers" 
had had considerable to do with the gaining of "Jack 
Ballister's Fortunes," and after this we turned our atten- 
tion to " Polly Oliver's Problem." 

We finally gave this up in despair, and were having a 
heated argument about the " Quadrupeds of North Amer- 
ica," when " Lady Jane " went by in a handsome carriage 
drawn by two white horses. 

The dust flew into my eyes, and I commenced to rub 
them, when suddenly I awoke and found myself sitting 
up in bed rubbing, not dust, but sleepiness, out of my 
eyes. I had been dreaming about St. Nicholas. 

Yours very truly, WILLIE J. M . 

Sioux City, Ia. 

Dear St. Nicholas : In the March number I saw a 
story called " Owney, of the Mail-bags. " One day he was 
in this city, and I was glad I had read that story. 

Owney seems to know that people look at him, and he 
stands still while they do so. 

A gentleman here had his name and city engraved on 
a silver quarter and put on Owney's harness. He also 
had a Corn Palace medal put on, for, you know, this is 
the Corn Palace City. 

The day after I saw him Owney started for San Fran- 
cisco. Ever your reader, Emily C . 

Hunter's Hoe, near Fairfax Station, Va. 
Dear St. Nicholas : X have long been intending to 
write a letter to you, but I never had anything very in- 
teresting to write. My sister and I took your magazine 
when we were very little children, and now that I am 
older (being eleven) I find new interest in the old num- 
bers. We have just moved into the home of our grand- 
parents — a quaint old house in Fairfax County,and near 
many of the celebrated battle-fields of the Civil War. The 
house is situated between Fairfax Court House and 
Manassas. Ten minutes' ride in the train brings us to 
the latter place. 

But I must tell you about the house. It was originally 
owned by English people, whose slaves built it 137 years 
ago. Its date we found cut in a soft stone in one of the 
upper rooms. We also found some hand-made nails lying 
between two loose stones, which prove how old it is. 
There are fireplaces built in the cellar, and we heard 
that these were the slaves' quarters in those days. It 
seems so queer in this age of improvement to live in a 
house built of stone and mud, but we think it so quaint 
that we will not modernize it. The walls are two feet 
thick, and the chimneys are not built outside, as on the 
old frame houses of Virginia. What its name originally 
was I do not know, but Mr. Hunter bought it from an 
Englishman named De Niel, and sold it to my grand- 
father as Hunter's Hoe, which was changed from Hun- 
ter's Haugh, meaning Hunter's Meadow. The owneis 
were no doubt millers, for there is an old mill-stone near 
by a branch, with two deep races leading to it. We often, 
in our rambles over the farm, find curious relics of the 
old days, such as arrow-points of slate and flint and 
tomahawks of stone and iron. I am ever your devoted 
reader, C. De W. I . 

Fairfax, Mich. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I am a new subscriber to your 
magazine, and enjoy reading it very much, and that is 
why I concluded to write to you and tell you about one 
of the industries of southern Michigan, where I live. 

One of the most useful productions of this section is 
the peppermint plant, which is raised extensively on the 
marshes. The roots are planted in rows in April, and in 
a few weeks the ground is nearly covered with the dark- 
green foliage, which is very fragrant. 

By the latter part of August the plant sends out a 
small purple blossom. It is then ready to be cut and 
distilled. The oil obtained from distilling the leaves is 
used by druggists and confectioners, and is very valuable. 

The oil is refined, and also made into crystals called 
menthol, which are much used in medicine. 

More peppermint is raised in St. Joseph County than 
in any other section of the world, and a great deal of the 
refined oil and crystals is shipped to Europe. 

Yours, Laurence T . 

Burlington, Iowa. 
My dear St. Nicholas : As we have been reading 
your magazine for some time, it has been a great pleasure 
to us. We are two girls, fifteen and thirteen years of 
age. We thought we would tell you of a polly parrot we 
have. It was a black polly, witli a white spot on his 
back. If company would come in the house, he would 
mock them when he thought they had stayed long enough. 
He would give them a hint to go, by saying, " Good-by, 
man; come back some day." He was a very impolite 
bird. My uncle has two colts and three horses. We 
have great sport with the colts. We often go riding. 
We go to the river most every day and gather shells in 
the summer. We have read a great many books, but 
your magazine takes the prize. Awaiting another of your 
magazines, Yours truly, Hattie and Dacy M . 

La Veta, Huerfano Co., Colo. 
My dear St. Nicholas : As I have not seen any 
letters from this State, I thought the readers of St. 
Nicholas would like to hear about our part of the 
United States. I was twelve years old last November. 
My parents came here twenty-one years ago. They 
came here from Adams, Jefferson County, N. Y. When 
they came here the Indians were numerous. There is 
an old fort down-town that was built to protect the white 
settlers from the Indians. It belongs to Colonel Fransisco. 



He was the first white settler here. He came here 
about thirty years ago. We live seventy-one miles south 
of Pueblo, on the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad. It is 
three miles on a straight line from the top of the Spanish 
Peaks to our ranch. Our town is a summer resort. It 
is a town of about 5 00 inhabitants. It is a great coal 
country. We are surrounded by hills that back East 
they would call mountains. There is nice, cool water 
here, and it is cool here all the year round. I have more 
to say, but it will take too much room. 

Your loving reader, Willet R. W , Jr. 


Up on the lonely tree-tops high 
The wind is singing the birds' lullaby; 

It sings of the meadows so sweet and fair, 
And of the flocks that were feeding there — 

About the grasses and daisies high, 

The wind doth tell in the birds' lullaby. 

It tells of the river so swift and bold, 

And of the mountains so icy cold ; 
It tells of the little brook so sweet. 

And of the pebbles that shine beneath ; 
About the rabbit so soft and shy, 

The wind doth tell in the birds' lullaby. 

So sleep, little birds, in your nice warm nest, 
For the great round sun has set in the west, 

And mother above her birds would stay, 

And the old wind sings as he goes his way, 

And the little stars are in the sky — 

That 's what he tells in the birds' lullaby. 

Roxbury, Mass. 

Dear St. Nicholas : We are two little girls who live 
in the great city of Boston. Our little brothers, Louis 
and Robert, are very fond of you. 

Papa once told us a story about a Frenchman who was 
traveling in Germany. He wanted some dinner, but did 
not know how to speak German. He wished for some 
mushrooms; so he drew a picture of them on paper. The 
waiter thought they were umbrellas, and went at once to 
get one. When the Frenchman saw what he had brought, 
he was very much disgusted, and at once left the restau- 
rant. We are your affectionate readers, 

Anna and Ellen T . 

Rye, Colorado. 

Dear St. Nicholas : There are many interesting 
things in Colorado to tell about. 

One day the children enjoy is "Watermelon Day." 
It is celebrated every year. One day in October is ap- 
pointed, and the settlers build a pen about 100 feet by 50 
feet, and fill it full of melons until they are piled higher 
than a man's head; and excursion-trains come in, bring- 
ing people from all over the State. It takes about six 
men to cut melons, and they have to work pretty hard to 
keep the people eating. It is funny to see the colored 
people devouring large slices with a grin broader than 
the melon. I am eleven years old, and live with my 
grandma. MINNIE M . 

Edinburgh, Scotland. 

Dear St. Nicholas : Seeing a letter from my cousin 
in your March number, I thought I would write to' you. 
I enjoy you very much, and am much indebted to my 
cousins in Ottawa (whom I have never seen) for sending 
you to us. 

There are three of us — my mother, my brother, and 
myself, the youngest. We live in the south of Edin- 
burgh, quite near to the Braid Hills, which are low-lying 
and fiat, and are used for the purpose of playing golf, 
a game which almost everybody plays at Edinburgh. I 
like sailing very much, and would like some day to visit 
my uncle in Ottawa. I have made a tour through the 
West Highlands and Islands of Scotland in a steamer 
belonging to my uncle, who is at Glasgow. The scenery 
is very beautiful there, though in some parts rocky and 
wild. I think that the west coast is much prettier and 
nicer than the east coast of Scotland. I have never been 
out of Scotland and England. We were greatly interested 
in the story called " Toinette's Philip," and I liked the 
one called " Tom Sawyer Abroad " very much. I remain 
your interested reader, Arch. M. L . 

We thank the young friends whose names follow for 
pleasant letters received from them : 

Allan C, Arthur B., Victor J. W., Helen G. M., An- 
drew B. B., Jay S. P., Jean N. R., Anna M. P., Flor- 
ence E. H., A. T. B. W., Rosalind D., Grace M., Marie 
S. N., Robert II. B., Edythe C, Miriam S., Ernestine 
F., Pearl F., Henry W. P., Marion W., Dorothy T., 
Mabel H., Laurence B., Hetty M. A., L. Olive R. H., 
Tuan Jose A., Madeline J., Olive C, Addie R., Lena S., 
Ethel B., Faith and Rose T., Wilfred B., Laurence W. 
W., John W. L., May W. and Virginia F., Daisy M., 
Clara S. M., Maud N., Anne B. D.,'\V. T. S., Margaret 
W., " Polly," Grace A. and Bessie C, Arthur B., Ruth 
H., Beatrice B., Cornelia C. W., Laura B. A., Elizabeth 
J. H., Mary S., Harold W. M., Bessie P., Dora P., 
Paul P., Harry R. S., Nathalie H. and Louise I.. Jean- 
ette B., M. K. E. H., Gertrude S., Mabel B. S. and 
Katharine R. C, Laura and Olive, Alda L. A., F. H. 
Mel., Clyde M., Charles W. A., Mary D., J. Waters, C. 
Ernest J., John C. H., Julia and Fay K., Florence C. 

B. A. and J. and E., Phelps T., Pauline R., Edith M. 
H., Rachel I. G., Beatrice L. and Edith C, Rupert S. J., 
Will P. L., Paul D., Margery T. B., George McV., Wal- 
ter K., E. H. R., Clarice and Circe V., Florence E., A. 
B., H. M. L., R. M., F. P. W., Vida V., Helen P., 
Letty G., M. D., Frank G. M., Jr., Anna, Marian and 
Laura, Harry S. M., Mattie L. G., Frank O. I,., James 

C, Edith M., Cora E. C, Flossie I. C, Edna A. T, 
Maude E., Grade N., Nelson L. P., Agnes H. B., Ellen 
T., Miriam C, Ella and Ida T., Helen R. H., Anna L., 
R. H. L. D., Virginia B. W., S. L. H., Eveleen W., 
May W., Florence IL, Isabel and Clara D., Herbert M., 
Guy H. B., Blanche N., John R. B., Elizabeth L. M., 
L. S. M. R., Ethel A. G., Carla S., Roderick ten B., 
Mary M., Camilla and Janette B., Minna J., Hastings 
C, Lilian C. H., A. H. and G. L., Elaine S. 0., Clarice 
and Lulu H., Miriam H. N., Elizabeth A. P., Ethehvyn 
R. D., Ralph C. J., Lulu, Gertie and Katie S., Harold 
H. N., Don G., Louise T, Lorenz N., Helen C, Ger- 
trude A. W., Nena I. E., Rose G., Hattie A. M., Her- 
bert W., Miriam H., C. M. B., Bertie C, Mollie B. H., 
Mabel C, T. Elton B., E. O. W., Edith E. M., John B. 
S., Jr., A. F. B., Kitty W., Jennie R., Gertrude M. S., 
" Betsey," Alice L. P., Edith M. K. 


5. Odeon. 

Zambo. 2. Aloud. 


3. Ache. 4. 
1. Gems. : 

. Edit. 

Fair and green is the marsh in June; 

Wide and warm in the sunny noon. 

The flowering rushes fringe the pool 

With slender shadows, dim and cool. 

From the low bushes "Bob White" calls; 

Into his nest a roseleaf falls, 

The blueflag fades; and through the heat, 

Far off, the sea's faint pulses beat. 
Anagram. " The Father of Medicine." 
Central Acrostic. Centrals, Andromache. Cross-words : 

1. parAgon. 2. eveNing. 3. shaDing. 4. depRive. 5. barOnet. 
6. terMite. ■}. wreAthe. 8. sinCere. 9. fisHers. 10. divErge. 

A Fluminous Enigma. "The American Rhine." 1. Tiber. 

2. Hoosac. 3. Elbe. 4. Amazon. 5. Milwaukee. 6. Edisto. 7. Rio 
Grande. 8. Irrawaddy. 9. Colorado. 10. Amoor. n. Nile. 12 Rhone. 
13. Hong-Riang. 14, Indus. 15. Niger. 16. Ebro. 

Connected Squares. I. 1. Load. 2. Once. 
II. 1. Heed. 2. Eddy. 3. Edge. 4. Dyed. III. 
3. Mica 4. Stay. 

Drop-letter Proverbs. i. A burnt child dreads the fire. 
2. Enough is as good as a feast. 3. A friend in need is a friend 
indeed. 4. Too many cooks spoil the broth. 

Divided Words, z. Bar-rel, val-ley, barley. 2. Nove-mber, 
fau-lty, novelty. 3. For-ego, cl-ever, forever. 4. Sup-erb, sim-ply, 
supply. 5. Bro-nze, dar-ken, broken. 

Illustrated Metamorphosis. Bird, bard, card, 
Bird, bard, bars, bass, bast, best, nest. 

Zigzag. " Coronation of Queen Victoria." Cross-words: 1. Cram. 
2. cOwl. 3. foRk, 4. zerO. 5. caNt. 6. fAng. 7. Tome. 8. mink. 
9. blOt. 10. shuN. 11. ErOs. 12. aFar. 13. Quit. 14. fUme. 
15. skEe. 16. wanE. 17. buNk. 18. OVid, 19. Iris. 20. aCid. 
21. ioTa. 22. CatO. 23. laRk. 24. Nile. 25. Arid. 

Hour-glass. Centrals, Barbary. Cross-words ; i. craBbed. 
2 slAng. 3. aRi. 4. B. 5. cAb. 6. faRce. 7. plaYers. 

care, cage. 

To ol'r Puzzlers: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and 
should be addressed to St. Nicholas " Riddle-box," care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the April Number were received, before April 15th, from " M. McG." — Alice Mildred 
Blanke and Co. — Josephine Sherwood — Helen C. McCleary — Paul Reese — L. O. E. — "Uncle Mung " — Mama, Isabel, and Jamie — 
Mabel Gardner and Marjorie Brown — Ida Carleton Thallon — "Arthur Gride" — "The Wise Five" — Louise Ingham Adams — Walter 
L. Haight — Helen Rogers — OdieOliphant — Annie R. Peabody — John Fletcher and Jessie Chapman — Harry and Helene — R. Bloom- 
ingdale — Jo and I. 

Answers to Puzzles in the April Number were received, before April 15th, from Carrie Chester, 1 — G. Isabel, 1 — Raymond 
Little, 1 — Francis W. Honeycutt, 1 — H. E. J., 2— Samuel J. Castner, 1— H. L. Popper, 2 — G. B. Dyer, 9— "Two Little Girls 
in Blue," 1 — Elaine S., 1 — "Tweedledum and Tweedledec," 2 — "Queen Elizabeth," 10 — Rhees Jackson, 1 — L. H. K., 1 — Harold 
A. Fisher, 2 — Robert H. Jacobs, 1 — Thomas Avery Roper, q — Jessica Childs, 1 — Mattie L. Garfield, 1 — Frank O. Libby, 2 — C. G. 
L.,J., R , 2 — Ethel C. Watts, 1— "Will O. Tree," 8 — Pearl F. Stevens, 9—" Butterflies," 10— J. and P., 2— Elsie Harman, 1— Effie R. 
Talboys, 4 — Katharine Parmly, 1 — Herbert Wright, 3 — Marjory Gane, 4 — Grandma, Mama, and I, 6 — "Lily Maid," 1 — Samuel J. 
Castner, 1— Hattie A. M., 1 — Rose Gilbert, 1 — P. Le B., H. L, and P. O. S. M., 7— Robert H. M., 1— Ralph B. Mason, 1 — Hubert 
L. Bingay, 9 — Norman C., 2 — Charles Mac Lean Moss, 4 — F. Pember, 1 — "Wisie," 1 — "Annie Laurie," 1 — Maud and Dudley 
Banks, 8 — Geo. S. Seymour, 3 — No Name, Littleton, 8 — Harriet E. Strong and Co., 5 — Carl Mason, 1 — "Three Blind Mice," 5 — 
" Tipcat," y — Mama and Charlie, 4 — Eleanor Bairas, and Helpers, 8 — Karl Garthwaite Smith, 10 — Floy Noteman, 4. 


The central letters, reading downward, will spell a 
name given to a person of excessive enthusiasm. 

Cross-words: i. A deep yellow color. 2. A French 
coin. 3. An insect. 4. In hour-glass. 
6. A subterfuge. 7. Drawing utensils. 


5. Devoured. 
E. w. w. 

From 1 to 2, a bird of prey ; from 1 to 3, rascals ; 
to 4, to wreathe ; from 3 to 4, meat that has 



minced and highly seasoned ; from 5 to 6, form of speech ; 

from 5 to 7, clear; from 6 to S, convolved; from 7 to 8, 
disfigured ; from 1 to 5, empty ; from 2 to 6, previously ; 
from 4 to 8, watched ; from 3 to 7, a kind of nail with 
a large head. philip le boutillier. 

Toh mudremsim's detpet norce, 
Twese ot em hyt swordy note 
Stell fo stoneculs snynu suroh, 
Glon sayd; dan lodis skabn fo sweflor ; 
Fo glufs fo stewnesse thouwit bundo, 
Ni Idnian swissrendeel dofun ; 
Fo Saniry capee, moralmit surelie, 
Strifem reech, dan kidbrile ralesupe. 


Examples : A crowded letter. Answer, D-pressed. 
A fettered letter : A-bound. 

I. A quiet letter. 2. A varied letter. 3. A numbered 
letter. 4. An appropriated letter. 5. A widely known 
letter. 6. A saucy letter. 7. A suspended letter. 8. A 
bruised letter. 9. A sloping letter. 10, A talking letter. 
n. A masticated letter. 12. A classified letter. 13. A 
lamented letter. 14. A separated letter. 15. An inhab- 
ited letter. 16. A delayed letter. 17. Two powdered 
letters. iS. Two packed letters. A. C. BANNING. 




I. A collection' of tents, arranged in an orderly 
way. 2. The agave. 3. One of a mixed race inhabit- 
ing Northern Africa. 4. Saucy. H. H. s. 


This differs from the ordinary double 
acrostic in that the words forming it are 
pictured instead of described. When 
the seven objects have been rightly 
named, the initial letters will spell a 
word often heard on the Fourth of July ; 
the final letters will spell the surname 
of an illustrious American. 


1. My first in the earth will ever be 

found ; 
My second 's a slight elevation of 

2. My first are often idle, 

We know not what they mean. 

My second is of value, 

In coin, or king, or queen. 

3. In character most sweet and mild ; 
In simple faith, a little child. 

His name, well, everybody knows, 
For on a farm it always grows. 

4. My name is but the title 
Of a very famous man, 

Whose word is law to all who go 
In deed or thought — to kiss his toe. 

5. My first is but another name 
For color or for shade ; 

My second 's what you 're loth to do 
When a pleasant call is made. 

6. In my first you will travel, 
When fresher scenes you seek; 
My second is a kind of thread 
That silky looks, and sleek. 

7. My first is an animal, gentle and 

"kind ; 
A more useful one you never could 

My second 's a sound of happy 

Another one makes, — not the one 

I first meant. 


I AM composed of one hundred and 
two letters, and form a prose quotation, 
concerning success, from Longfellow's 

My 23-37-77 is a plaything. My 
69-33-92 is a pronoun. My S2— 61— 
97-11 is the threads that cross the warp 
in a woven fabric. My 42-S6-53-56 is 
to utter a loud, protracted, mournful 
sound or cry. My 99-3-47-59 is a 
quarrel between families or clans. My 
95-29-78-51 is the surname of an Eng- 
lish poet and wit. My 85-13-40-10 

is the surname of a very famous French author. My 
93-63-15-67-73 is a male relative. My 80-7-98-31- 
4S-90 is an imperfection. My 1S-101-45-30-35-71 is 
a city of Turkey. My 2-49-74-5-26-43 is a city of the 
West Indies. My 28-S9-60- 76-19-36 is a city of Spain. 
My 16-21-S4-65-25-S-54 is to twist together. My 58- 
S7-14-55-75-79-20 is a central mass or point about 
which matter is gathered. My 70-22- 
12-96-34-27-102 is a person given as 
a pledge that certain promises will be 
fulfilled. My 9-41-38-6-62-94-24-4 is 
the close of day. My 91-81-32-1-66- 
50-72-52-SS is one of a degraded and 
savage race of South Africa. My 39- 
46-17-44-ICO-6S-64-83-57 is home- 
sickness. "CORNELIA BLIMEER." 


I. In bats. 2. To capture. 3. A 
feminine name. 4. Votes. 5. A sphere. 

6. Consumed. J. In bats. 
Included Diamond : 1. In bats. 

2. A measure of length. 3. To assign 
as a share. 4. The European pollock. 
5. In bats. CYRIL DEANE. 


All the words described contain the 
same number of letters. When lightly 
guessed, and placed one below the 
other, the central letters will spell the 
name of a man, famous in history, who 
was born July 5th, 1S01. 

Cross-words: i. To offer for ac- 
ceptance. 2. The common herring. 3. 
A state carriage. 4. A kind of trumpet, 
whose note is clear and shrill. 5. To 
render more comprehensive. 6. Hauled. 

7. Filled. 8. Vestments. I., w. 


i 8 

. . 2 . . 9 . . 
. 3 . . . . 10 . 

4 11 

. 5 . . . . 12 . 

. . 6 . . 13 . . 

. . . 7 14 . . . 

From 1 to 7, a famous American ; 
from 8 to 14, a famous Englishman. 

Cross-yvokds ■. 1. Surrendering. 2. 
Simple, or trifling. 3. To proclaim. 4. 
A book of directions and receipts for 
cooking. 5. A short, light cannon. 6. 
Pertaining to the lungs. 7. To convey 
from one place to another. 






Vol. XXL AUGUST, 1894. 

Copyright, 1894, by The Century Co. All rights reserved. 

No. 10. 


By Mary Murdoch Mason. 

The Admiral was eleven years old. He had 
fine gray-blue eyes and a mouth born to com- 
mand. He could stand on a raft from 9 a. m. 
to 6 p. m. in his bare legs and feet without tak- 
ing cold. Once the Admiral woke his mother 
at five in the morning to beg her to feel his 
calves : 

" Hard as bullets, Mama, hard as bullets," 
said he. " The only part of me that 's in really 
good condition." Then the Admiral turned 
over and went to sleep with a sigh, hoping for 
better days. 

The Admiral loved the sea, and, with the 
bigotry of the born sailor, he hated dry land — 
always wanted to kick a mountain whenever 
he saw one, he said. When a land breeze 
blew, he looked a bit peaked, but once let the 
sea air come rolling in on an east wind, and he 
was " all there," standing on his raft, with his 
sea-legs on, — legs lean, bare, brown, hard- 
calved, — and he poled along the river bank 
from Leander's wharf to the other piers in a 
blissful state. 

There were two other boys who helped to 
form the raft's crew, — the first and second 
mate, — and they all loved their boat as jockeys 
love their winning horses, or mothers their first 

babies. There was another raft, too, with a 
crew of three boys, but the Admiral was on the 
flag-ship, of course. To the eye of an ordinary 
observer it seemed, as it lay high and dry on the 
mud-flats at low tide, simply a bit of old board- 
walk utilized as a boat. Far be it from me, how- 
ever, to suggest such a thing. To the Admiral 
and the crew, it had nobility and beauty and 
was vastly superior to the other raft, which, if 
you like, was only a relic of the " walk " to the 
beach. The flag-ship bore herself proudly, let 
herself be poled swiftly, — as rafts go, — and 
leaked only just enough to make the sport truly 

The Admiral had a dog, a fine fellow of a 
dog, too, — a fox-terrier, with a lovely jaunty 
black patch over his left eye, and a soul above 
fear ; and the love of the sea was born in him 
as it was in his master. The dog was always 
on the raft, barking at the crew of the raft be- 
hind, or looking into the water, or lying or 
standing proudly about. He was called the 
Midshipmite, as the youngest and handsomest 
of the crew. When there was presented to the 
Admiral a fine tin horn through which to issue 
his orders, the Midshipmite received a beautiful 
big Jackson ball, which he rolled around under 


8 4 4 



his tongue for an hour or more, before he lost 
it overboard. If possible, the Admiral loved 
the Midshipmite even more than he loved the 
raft, or his title, or the ocean itself. They were 
always together. Every morning at twelve 
they swam in the surf, and every evening they 
had their little romp together before bedtime. 

One night there came a wild wind flying up 
the coast. Wise men said it was the tail of a 
southern cyclone ; but whatever it was, it was a 
tearer, and broke and bent and tore down and 
wrought destruction and death, and brought 
sorrow and loss along the shore. But up at 
the peaceful harbor in Maine it did no great 
damage. Not a ship was lost, though had it 
not been for the courage and skill of the Mid- 
shipmite and his Admiral, their flag-ship would 
now be a mere wreck, or a derelict haunting 
the northern sea off our rocky coast. For the 
raft, though well secured by her owners the 
night before in the inlet, had broken her moor- 
ings and drifted away with wind and tide from 
the snug little home in the tiny bay, out into 
the big river, and was rapidly on her way to 

The Admiral, holding on to himself by the 
strength of his calves, and the Midshipmite 
pattering safely behind on his four little legs, 
ran down to see about the flag-ship the mo- 
ment they put their noses out of doors into the 
flying mist and screaming breeze that filled the 
air. Off they ran to the inlet, which looked 
like a miniature sea lashed into myriad white- 
caps. The good ship was gone! Down to the 
pier, beyond it, further, further they ran, the 
Admiral with his heart in his mouth, the Mid- 
shipmite with his tongue hanging out from pure 
excitement. They saw the raft in the current, 
not far from the land, but making for the ocean. 
All sorts of notions popped into the Admiral's 
mind. To blow his horn was only the work 
of a second — a loud, clear blast. That would 
bring the crew in a few moments. They would 
all be "in at the death," at least, and see the 
last of their good old ship. So the Admiral 
blew his horn. 

The sound seemed to inspire the Midship- 
mite; he gave a sudden bark, a swift plunge, 
and he was in the waves, fighting the white- 
caps, and making for the raft. " Oh, Middy, 

Middy, come here, come back ! " cried the poor 
Admiral, but Middy never turned. He reached 
the raft, by a sort of miracle, at last, boarded 
her, and stood there helpless but proud. Drift- 
ing away from his master, he still held his 
ground, and turned a courageous face, as if to 
say : " Here I am, Admiral. Alone I can do 
nothing. I cannot even use a pole ; but make 
use of me, make use of me, my Admiral. With 
your intelligence and my courage, we should 
surely do something " ; but all the while he was 
drifting away, nearer and nearer to where the 
river turns and sweeps boldly out to the great 
Atlantic. The Admiral did not see the other 
boys or the boatman, who had heard his call 
and were running toward him. He saw only 
the Midshipmite and his ship drifting away, and 
himself — a feeble child in spite of his strong 
legs — watching them go to their death. Then 
his little brain worked hard and fast. How to 
help — how to help? He put his hand in his 
pocket. Ah, he had it ! He drew out a long, 
strong fish-line, with a big lead sinker on the 
end. Then he blew his hom again. The Mid- 
shipmite gave a short, sharp, respectful bark in 
reply to the Admiral's signal. " Aye, aye, sir," 
it seemed to say; " I 'm ready, sir." When the 
Admiral saw that Middy understood, he wound 
the string about his waist twice, then clutched 
tightly at a shrub growing on the rocks, and, 
taking the sinker in his hand, threw it — he was 
pitcher on the nine at school — at the raft. By 
skill, and good luck, it hit the ship, and — presto ! 
the Midshipmite had it in his mouth, taut. He 
had his sea-legs on then, had the Middy, and, 
with all four stretched and pulling against wind 
and tide, he stood on the frail planking. " Come, 
good fellow; come. Middy!" cried the Admiral, 
and pulled on the line as signal. 

No ! The noble junior officer would not de- 
sert the sinking ship ! He held the lead in his 
teeth, still drifting away. The Admiral was 
obliged to let out the line at last, unwillingly 
and gradually. And then he had to leave the 
friendly tree, and run along the shore, for, like 
the Middy, he, too, would not let go. 

The boatman who saw it said he had a lump 
in his throat as he watched the bare-headed 
little fellow "a-runnin' alongside o' that 'ere 
dog, and both a-dyin' game, sir. I would n't — 




'most — 'a' done it for a 
man," he said, "for the 
tide 's awful strong out 
there, but — " 

But he did it for a 
dog. Yes, Leander got 
out his dory, and by 
the time the other of- 
ficers were running with 
the Admiral, holding 
on to the heavy twine, 
— the Admiral, still 
cool of head, though 
short of wind, and cau- 
tioning them against too 
hard pulling, — why, 
the boatman was along- 
side the dog and raft. 
He called to Middy, 
but Middy stuck to 
the ship, and so they 
were both towed in be- 
hind Leander and the 
dory. It was only a 
short distance to cover 

after all; and in a few moments the poor old land-lubber, was securely moored to the rocks 
raft, leaking, and looking more like a bit of by her proud and loyal crew, 
dilapidated planking than ever to the eye of a And the Midshipmite was in the Admiral's 





arms. He forgot rank; so did the Admiral. 
Middy dropped the lead sinker into his master's 
hand, and the two were so wet and so salty that 
one did not know where the tears began, and 
where the sea ended. Then the Midshipmite 
gave the other officers his right hand, for he 
was a wise dog, and remembered that he was 
an officer, too ; and then they all went home to 
breakfast with very hearty appetites. 

Next day, when the storm was over, there 
was a pretty scene of triumph. The flag-ship, 
adorned with an American flag and a Yale flag 
and a big F. S., meaning Fay School, was 
launched before a hundred people, more or 
less. There was the Admiral's mother, and the 
mothers of other sailors; there were proud big 
brothers and envious younger brothers, and 
Leander and friendly boatmen, and lovers of 
boys — a crowd in all. The other raft followed 
humbly, yet proudly, in line, with her display 
of bunting, too; and on the flag-ship stood the 
Admiral, straight and strong, with his trumpet 
in his hand, and the Midshipmite, with a great 

bunch of sweet-peas tied to his collar, lay 
quietly at his feet, waiting the word of com- 
mand ; the rest of the crew at the poles. The 
Admiral blew the horn, the men at the poles 
dipped oars, and the Midshipmite barked : 
" Ready, aye, ready, sir," and the raft heaved 
slowly ahead. 

It was Leander on the pier who shouted, 
" Three cheers for the Admiral and the Mid- 
shipmite ! Three times three ! " " And for the 
flag-ship, too ! " cried the crowd altogether. 

"Rah, rah, rah! — rah, rah, rah! — rah, rah, 
rah ! " rang out in all sorts of voices from the 
mother's teary, trembling tones, to the strong 
shouts of the Maine fishermen. 

Leander said he had another lump in his 
throat when the Admiral lifted the Midship- 
mite and held him up close to his face, where 
every one could see him. 

The Admiral looked very flushed and happy 
and a little proud, but the Midshipmite, like a 
true sailor-hero, simply looked brave and calm 
and contented. 


He came up over the hill 

In the flush of the early morn, 

And he blew his whistle shrill 

Till the blackbirds, down in the corn, 

And the robins, all were still. 

And the leaves began to lean. 
And the little blades of grass, 

And the lily garden-queen, 
All eager to see him pass, — 

He of the frolic mien. 

They watched for his back-tossed hair, 

And his peachy lips a-purse, 
And his tanned cheeks full and fair, 

As he flung a flute-like verse 
Into every nook of the air. 

But never a trace could they find 

Of his form, though they knew him near, 

And their bright eyes were not blind; — 
You will marvel not to hear 

That the whistler was the wind. 

Clinton Scollard. 


By Rudolph F. Bunner. 

If, in the green of the woods, one day, 

You came to a place where the fairies play, 

And a little sign-post stood on the ground, 

With four little paths from all around, 

And if you could choose to go either way, 

But wherever you went you knew you must stay 

For ever and ever and a day — 

And if one road led to the land of snow, 

Of the chimney-fires and where snowballs grow ; 

And the next led off to the Autumn hills 

Of the morning frosts and the cider-mills ; 

And still through the woods, but far away, 

The third lane led to the holiday 

Where long midsummer hours you spend ; 

And if springtime lay at the fourth road's end, 

Where arbutus hides and wake-robins blow, — 

Which would you choose and where would you go ? 



By Edward H. Elwell, Jr. 

We were a party of twenty-three touring 
American cyclists, all architects or students of 
architecture. As we journeyed through Brit- 
tany oil our way northward to the coast, it 
was with much satisfaction that we looked for- 
ward to a glimpse of the ocean again. We 
had been wheeling for five weeks through the 
interior of France, and we felt that the salt 
sea-breezes would prove most refreshing. 

Our goal was the Mont St. Michel (Mount 
of St. Michael), which is situated at the mouth 
of a little river that forms the boundary be- 
tween Brittany and Normandy. It empties its 
waters into a great gulf, inclosed between two 
points of land, which are fourteen miles apart 
and nearly as long. 

Imagine the area thus inclosed to be a vast 
expanse, not of water but of sand — beautiful, 
shimmering, treacherous sand, ever changing in 
color as the clouds cast their shadows upon it, 
or the retreating tide spreads its darkening 
dampness, or the sun pours down its bleaching 
heat. Only at the highest tides does the ocean 
fill the entire gulf as far as the low, wooded 
shores at the mouth of the river. Then the 
water comes rushing for miles over the level 
waste, and woe to the man or beast that lingers 
before it ! Nothing but wings can escape the 
speed of its foaming billows. But the usual 
tide spreads a thin layer of water only to within 
a mile from the head of the gulf, except in the 
various channels and hollows; and as it slowly 
recedes, marking the shape of its wavelets upon 
the glittering sand, for acres and acres the eye 
cannot detect where sand begins and water 
ends, unless, maybe, the distant figure of a man 
appears to solve the problem. 

But finally the ocean recedes behind the ho- 
rizon, and the blue of the sky comes down to 
the yellows and grays of the sand. From prom- 
ontory to promontory, of which the one can 
just be seen from the other, and from wooded 
shore to horizon line, where a distant sail alone 
tells of the ocean, there is nothing to break the 

surface of this enormous sandy beach except 
two gigantic rocks rising abruptly out of it. 
Geologists claim that in the times before there 
were men on earth this immense gulf was a 
mighty forest, that slowly sank beneath the sur- 
face with the sinking of the coast, leaving only 
the peaks of two mountains, and that those 
peaks are now these rocky islets. 

Both, indeed, are marvels of nature's archi- 
tecture, in the sublimity of their huge bulks 
that rise above the sand; but the larger of 
them is more wonderful still as the site of a 
marvel of the architecture of man. The Mont 
St. Michel is nearly two miles from the mouth 
of the river. It is but fifteen minutes' walk 
around the rocky beach at its base. Its height 
is over 350 feet. Its sides are nearly as steep 
as the side of a house. 

For ages it has been the site of some religious 
building. The Romans found a heathen tem- 
ple there, and replaced it by an altar to their 
own Jupiter. The coming of Christianity saw 
the beginning of the present wonderful struc- 
tures, the growth of centuries. The top of the 
rock is just large enough for the beautiful 
Gothic cathedral that covers it. In size, de- 
tail, and carving it equals many of the most fa- 
mous cathedrals of Europe. Above part of the 
building there is a promenade that is 450 feet 
above the sand. Around the base of the cathe- 
dral, and of course built upon the steep, rocky 
slopes, is a mass of huge stone buildings that 
have served through the centuries as monas- 
tery, prison, and feudal stronghold. They con- 
ceal all but the upper half of the cathedral, 
which they entirely surround. The lowest 
foundation is 150 feet above the sand. 

The whole constitutes one mighty structure, 
a vast maze of great stone halls, with rows of 
carved pillars, of endless passages, broad flights 
of steps and spiral stairways, of horrible dun- 
geons and gloomy vaults. The stone of which 
it is built was all brought from the mainland, 
nearly two miles, and, of course, hauled over 



8 49 

the sand. Block by block, the stone was 
brought across the sands, hoisted up the steep 
cliffs by means of windlasses, and then shaped 
and carved with infinite patience and rare 
skill. The building went on at different times 
between the 9th and 14th centuries; and since 

side of the Mount. There is room for just one 
short, narrow street, behind the high walls that 
rise from the edge of the sand. On all other 
sides the steepness of the cliff itself is its de- 
fense. In the village there are about two 
hundred people, descendants of the original in- 


then separate parts have been many times de- 
stroyed and restored. The architectural beauty 
and wonderful carving of these buildings would 
alone make them famous. But because of their 
unique location, and also because they were 
built by the monks who possessed here a little 
kingdom of their own, — so rich and powerful 
were they when they accomplished the stupen- 
dous task, — this crowning glory of Mont St. 
Michel will long remain one of the marvels of 
the world, and be to France almost what the 
Pyramids are to Egypt. 

There is a tiny village on the only accessible 

habitants of the mainland, who fled into places 
of safety before the attacks of the Norsemen, 
over one thousand years ago. They are all 
fishermen, except the proprietors of the three 
hotels. It is but recently that this quaint little 
village, so queerly located, has been made 
accessible to visitors unless under the guidance 
of those who had learned by experience how 
to cross the sand and escape its dangers. For 
in numerous and ever-changing places the sur- 
face is as yielding as that of the ocean itself, 
and strong indeed would be the swimmer who 
could support himself in a quicksand ! 

8 5 o 



But nine years ago the French government 
built a magnificent dike or stone causeway from 
the shore to the Mount, and over its smooth 
surface we hastened, that September afternoon, 
on our swift wheels, eager to reach the wonder- 
ful rock and its still more wonderful buildings, 
that had loomed before our vision during a whole 
hour of rapid riding. 


Beneath the frowning ramparts, the porters 
of the different hotels besieged us, but finally 

we were allowed to enter the great gateway 
of this mighty stronghold, that never once 
yielded to the assaults of the English in the 
" Hundred Years' War," though throughout 
the rest of northern France the English arms 
had been victorious, and they would have con- 
quered the entire country except for brave 
Joan of Arc, the " Maid of Orleans." It was 
in 1434, a few years after 
she had saved Orleans, 
that the English made a 
last mighty effort to cap- 
ture Mont St. Michel, 
and gathered upon the 
sands an army of 20,000 
men. The battle was 
fierce and terrible, but 
they were forced to with- 
draw, leaving behind 
them 2000 slain and two 
huge cannon, then called 

These two great guns, 
among the earliest used 
in Europe, were the first 
objects to attract our at- 
tention when we entered 
the gateway in the wall. 
They are, perhaps, fifteen 
feet long, and in their 
great muzzles and on the 
ground below are several 
of the round stone balls, 
nearly two feet through, 
that they had hurled 
against the fortress, to so 
little purpose, more than 
four and a half centu- 
ries ago. 

The narrow street 
passed under another 
giant gateway, a few 
rods farther on, close be- 
side which was our hotel, 
a tall modern building of 
stone. Madame Poulard, 
its famous proprietor, 
was waiting to receive 
us. Of course our manager had notified her be- 
forehand, and we found that the arrival there 

i8 9 4-] 


of twenty-three wheelmen was an event of 
quite as much importance as it had always 
been elsewhere. 

Our genial hostess, after we had put our 
bicycles in a place prepared for them, con- 
ducted us through the 
kitchen of her hotel, ' 
— the front room, as 
is often the case in 
France, — where a 
dozen chickens were 
roasting on a slowly- 
turning spit before the 
fireplace, and thence 
up two flights of stairs, 
and, opening a door, 
ushered us — not to 
our rooms, but out of 
doors on top of the 
ramparts. A long 
flight of stone steps 
led backward toward 
the monastery. We 
began to realize that 
her hotel, because of 
the peculiarity of the 
site, was distributed in 
sections on different 
terraces of the narrow 
and steeply-sloping 
patch of rock to which 
the village clings. 

At the top of the steps we passed a long red 
building, containing rooms, all occupied by 
guests, and still farther up we approached the 
third section of the " Hotel Poulard," and found 
that it had been given over wholly to us. 
There were just twenty- three beds in it, and 
we could decide for ourselves to whom each 
should belong. 

They were, with the exception of some in 
Paris, the best-furnished and cleanest rooms 
that we had found in France, and the view 
from their windows is one of the finest in 
the world. We were above the village and 
just below the base of the monastery ; and 
the strange charm of both, combined with 
the still more fascinating sea of sand, held us 
with a power all its own. From a few tiny 
black specks upon the grayish-yellow ocean, 

3 5 I 

there floated up to us a faint, weird music. It 
was the singing of some of the village women, 
as they dug in the sand with their fingers for 
the little cockles which make a large part of 
the food of the people. Winter and summer, 
day after day, the wo- 
men and children thus 
add to the general 
food-supply, while the 
men and boys are oc- 
cupied in fishing. 
Such a thing as 
privation is unknown 
at Mont St. Michel. 

We were thrilled by 
this distant singing 
when shouts of anger, 
in good plain English, 
called our attention 
to the stone stairway. 
There we saw one of 
our party who had 
arrived behind and 
alone, struggling up- 
ward with his heavily- 
laden bicycle, and 
making unpleasant re- 
marks about the hotel- 
porters in particular 
and the whole world 
in general. How 
should he know, who 
understood no word of the native "jargon," 
that the bicycles were to be left below ? As 
he approached along the causeway, he had 
seen us in our lofty abode and had made 
straight for us, mounting the ramparts by 
a stairway outside the hotel, and resisting the 
frantic gestures and " gibberish " of the hotel 
people, in their efforts to make him leave his be- 
loved bicycle behind. How could he know that 
the hotel was in sections? He thought the people 
below were trying to induce him to go to another 
hotel and he did not intend to leave his party. 

But the charm of the situation and surround- 
ings soon dispelled his disgust, and as we all sat 
down to the excellent dinner, there never was a 
merrier, happier party of wheelmen in the world. 
That night some of us were awakened by a 
deep and ever increasing roar, that seemed to 





surround us upon every side with its tremen- 
dous sound. It was the thunder of the in- 
coming ocean over the waste of sand ; and we 
fell asleep with a consciousness of perfect safety 
in the very midst of the approaching waters. 

Of course the first thing in the morning was 
to follow the guide through the labyrinth of the 
huge buildings above us, to gaze at the marvels 
of architecture, and to creep into the dungeons. 

them a living. One longs to examine the many 
rows of fish-traps, that are placed upon the sand 
before the tide comes in, and are full of sole and 
flounders when the tide goes out ; and also to 
see the differences of the surface by which the 
guides detect the quicksands. The very danger 
is attractive. 

And what could be more enticing than to ac- 
company a group of the picturesque fishermen, 



Although it was late in the season, the hotel 
was crowded ; and large parties, mostly of 
French people, were making the tour of inspec- 
tion. The majority of the visitors came only 
for the day, and we were told that about forty 
thousand come every year. 

After the tour through the monastery, a walk 
upon the sand is next in order at Mont St. 
Michel. The vast level waste possesses a mys- 
terious fascination. The stranger longs to follow 
the brown-legged natives, who are always com- 
ing and going over their queer domain, that in 
its double nature of earth and water yields to 

with baskets on backs, and nets in hand, as they 
direct their steps toward one of the outflowing 
rivers of the tide, that are left in the hollow 
places. Old men and young boys join in the 
endeavor to catch the little bluish fish, a few 
inches long, that dart hither and thither in 
the shallow water, and reveal their locality 
by the wake they leave behind them. The old 
men content themselves with a still hunt. They 
stand in one place, slowly turning, with watch- 
ful eye ; and woe to the fish that comes within 
the sweep of their nets. But the young men 
and the boys engage in the chase. The water 




is but four or 
five inches in 
depth. With 
stealthy, high 
mincing steps 
and leaps, so 
as to splash 
as little as 
possible, they 
follow their 
tiny quarry 
until at last 
the open net 
is deftly swept 
beneath it. 
the fish flee- 
ing from one 
net becomes 
the victim of 
another, and 
now and then 
a lazy fish- 
erman thus 
coolly takes 
advantage of 
a more active 
And then a 
whirlwind of 
voices comes 
pealing over 
the sand, for 
the Bretons 
are not as 
nor as sweet- 
tempered as 
some other 
folk of France. 
However, the 
fishermen con- 
fine themselves to language ; but enough of that 
is poured forth for sometimes a quarter of an 
hour, at a seeming climax of anger, to keep the 
stranger in constant dread of a terrible tragedy. 
But can one ride a bicycle upon the sand ? 
That was our great problem, and the theme of 
talk till the question was settled. It appeared so 


smooth of surface, so " macadamized," so to speak, 
by the weight of the water, that it was thought 
possible, by some of our party, that pneumatic 
tires would roll over it with ease. So, counting 
upon this, we had visions of a delightfully unique 
journey to Avranches, our next destination on 
the distant coast of the bay. 




But where the sand was wet, it was slippery 
and roughened by the tiny hard ridges left by 
the wavelets; and where it was dry, the tires 
sank into it. Besides, no muscle could over- 
come its deadness. It seemed to cling to the 
tires like glue. 

However, the enthusiasts would not give up 
their longed-for journey across the sands. They 
would traverse the four miles on foot, hiring a 
guide with his cart to carry their bicycles. The 
rest of us might ride the eighteen miles back 
over the causeway and around the shore, if we 
liked. They would be in Avranches, and at 
work with pencils and sketch-books, hours be- 
fore we could arrive. 

So at nine o'clock in the morning we bade 
farewell to Madame Poulard, the quaint village, 
and the grimly beautiful pile of architecture on 
top of the mighty rock, left our five companions 
negotiating with the guide, and pedaled away 
over the smooth boulevard of the causeway. 

An easy run brought us to Avranches by 
eleven o'clock. Our companions had not ar- 
rived. An hour passed, it was time for dinner, 

yet they came not. After we had nearly fin- 
ished the meal we were all startled by the appa- 
rition of a face at the window, — in fact, the 
very ghost of the ruddy countenance of our 
Boston comrade as we had last seen him at 
Mont St. Michel. 

In a few minutes all five of the tardy sand- 
walkers filed into the dining-room, bare-legged 
and coatless. The paleness of their faces was 
positively alarming. 

Their distress was too manifestly serious for 
us to scoff at them. 

It seems they had engaged a guide, had 
placed their bicycles, coats, and shoes and 
stockings in his cart, and had started ahead 
over the sand, expecting, of course, that he was 
to follow. They had proceeded perhaps a 
quarter of a mile (for there are no quicksands 
near the Mount), when they happened to turn 
about, and perceived that they were alone. 
Where was the guide ? They had supposed he 
was close at their heels ? Finally they detected 
his cart disappearing along the causeway. He 
had concluded that it would be much easier 






to take the load over the long, smooth road 
around the coast, than by the short yielding 
pathway over the sand. In vain they ran after 
him and shouted. He was too far away. An- 
other guide was procured (for safety requires 
one), and the journey began again. 

It was very pleasant at first. They saw a 
mirage, and stood on the brink of a quicksand 
and cautiously tested it with their feet. But 
yielding sand is not the easiest path for pedes- 
trians, and four miles of its friction on tender 
feet, accustomed only to shoe-leather, produced 
a soreness that can be imagined. 

And all the time Avranches seemed to recede 
from the shore instead of growing nearer. From 
the Mount it had appeared close at hand, for 
it rests upon a high cape, but really it was six 
miles from the edge of the sand. The man 
with the bicycles was not waiting for them on 

the shore, of course. And so, in their coatless 
and bare-footed plight, they wearily plodded 
along over the hard smooth road that their 
bicycles would have traversed so easily. Ar- 
rived at Avranches, after a ten-mile walk, they 
climbed the long, steep grade to the very top 
of the cape, and wandered all about the city 
in search of the hotel. It was not until they 
learned that the hotel was not on top of the 
cape but over in the valley on the other side, 
that their cup of misery began to run over. 

We were not surprised at their white faces 
when they had finished telling us the reason. 

But where were the bicycles ? It was long 
after dinner before the man and his cart arrived, 
and it will be long years before he forgets his re- 
ception. Our five friends did n't start with the 
rest of us for Granville. A period of rest was 
necessary before they could resume the journey. 


By Molly Elliot Seawell. 


{Begun in the A/ay number.] 

Chapter VII. 

On the morning of the 19th of February, 
just fifteen days after they had left Syracuse, 
the Intrepid and the Siren stood in the harbor. 
Stewart, from motives of delicacy, kept his fast- 
sailing brig astern of the ketch. The Nauti- 
lus lay farther out than the Constitution, and 
Somers, taking his morning walk on the 
quarter-deck, saw the ketch and the brig ap- 
proaching, and the next moment the lookout 
sang out : " Sail, ho ! " 

Instinctively, Somers knew that it was Deca- 
tur and Stewart. The morning was one of 
those clear, bright days when the earth and sea 
seem like Paradise. In the bright blue air he 

could see the white canvas of the brig, now 
cleaned and fresh, and the low hull of the ketch 
with her lateen sail. 

Soon they were near enough to be hailed ; 
and, with a joy and thankfulness not to be 
described, Somers saw Decatur standing in the 
bows of the ketch waving his cap — a signal 
meaning success that had been agreed upon 
between them. 

The next instant they were seen from the 
Constitution ; and, as soon as it was certain 
they were observed, an ensign was run up to 
every masthead on the Intrepid. This was 
enough ; it meant complete success. At once 
the commodore gave orders for a salute to be 
fired, and the guns of the Constitution roared 
out their welcome. This was taken up by the 



Nautilus, and by the Sicilian forts on shore ; for 
Sicily, too, had her grudge against Tripoli. In 
the midst of the thundering salutes, and in a 
cloud of blue smoke, the brig and the ketch 
came to anchor. Somers had ordered his boat 
lowered, and had made for the Constitution, 
in order to be the first to meet Decatur. His 
boat, and the Intrepid's which carried Decatur 
and Lawrence, came to the ladder at the same 
moment. Decatur sprang out and caught 
Somers in his arms, and they hugged each other 
very much as they had done in their midship- 
man days when both were larking together in 
" Old Wagoner's " steerage. 

Somers then went over the side in order that 
he might witness Decatur's triumphal arrival. 
The commodore and all the Constitution's offi- 
cers were waiting at the gangway to salute 
Decatur. Somers greeted the commodore and 
the other officers hurriedly, and walked aside 
as Decatur stepped upon the quarter-deck, 
followed by his first lieutenant. Decatur wore 
a perfectly new naval uniform, with a handsome 
sword. His fine black eyes were sparkling, and 
he had a happy air of success. 

He bowed low to the commodore. " Old 
Pepper " grasped Decatur's hand warmly, and, 
taking off his cap, cried : 

"If every plank in the Philadelphia is de- 
stroyed, you shall have my best efforts to make 
you a post-captain for it." 

" Every plank is destroyed, sir ; every gun is 
burst or at the bottom of the harbor; and the 
ship, after burning to the water's edge, ex- 
ploded, and you could not have told the place 
where she lay," answered Decatur, quietly. 

At this a mighty hurrah went up from the 
officers and men on the Constitution. 

" Not a man was lost," continued Decatur ; 
but at that another storm of cheering cut him 
short. Somers, the quietest and most self- 
contained man on the squadron, was cheering 
wildly, and literally dancing in his excitement. 
The commodore hurried Decatur into the 
cabin to get the particulars ; Lawrence told 
the glorious story on the quarter-deck ; while 
Danny Dixon, who was coxswain, got permis- 
sion to leave the Intrepid's boat, and to a lis- 
tening crowd of blue jackets on the " fok's'l " he 
recounted the noble adventure of the Intrepid. 
Vol. XXI.— 108. 


When Decatur returned to the deck to get 
into his boat, he found the rigging full of men ; 
and as he left the ship, taking Somers with him, 
that they might have their usual long and inti- 
mate talk, the yards were manned, and three 
rousing American cheers shook the Constitu- 
tion's deck in honor of the Intrepid's young 

Amid all the felicitations on the outcome cf 
the expedition, the modesty and calmness of 
Decatur, under his weight of glorious achieve- 
ment, was remarked upon, especially as he was 
so young and so impetuous. But when he and 
Somers were finally left alone in the cabin 
of the Argus, they suddenly threw aside their 
dignity, and acted like a couple of delighted 

They hugged and pounded each other ; they 
laughed ; they cried ; they joked ; they sang ; 
and at last, the only thing that quieted them 
was the usually grave Somers shoving Decatur 
into a chair, and shouting : " Now, you lucky 
rascal, don't dare to move from that chair until 
you have told me all about the fight ! " 

Chapter VIII. 

On the morning of August 3, 1804, began 
that immortal series of five assaults on the 
town, the fortresses, and the fleets of Tripoli 
that was destined forever to destroy the pirat- 
ical and barbaric power. The force of the 
Americans was but little. With one heavy frig- 
ate, the glorious old Constitution, three brigs, 
three schooners, two bomb vessels, and three 
gunboats, manned by one thousand and sixty 
officers and men, Commodore Preble stood 
boldly in to attack the town defended by the 
Bashaw's castle, not less than a dozen powerful 
forts, a fleet of three cruising vessels, two gal- 
leys, and nineteen gunboats, manned by twenty- 
five thousand Turks and Arabs. The harbor 
was, moreover, protected by a line of shoals 
and reefs perfectly well known to the Tripoli- 
tans, but very imperfectly known to the Ameri- 
cans, and which the Constitution could not 
approach closely without incurring the fate of 
the unfortunate Philadelphia. But whatever 
" Old Pepper " lacked in ships and guns, he 
made up in men ; for every soul on the Amer- 

8 5 8 

ican fleet was worthy to serve under the flag 
that flew from the mastheads. 

In considering the claims of his different offi- 
cers in leading the attack, Commodore Preble 
had at last determined upon Decatur and Som- 
ers. The larger vessels were to cover the ad- 
vance of the gunboats, which were to do the 
real fighting ; and these gunboats were divided 
into two divisions, the first under Decatur, the 
second under Somers. Besides the natural fit- 
ness of these two young captains in this dan- 
gerous hour, the commodore knew their perfect 
understanding of each other, and the entire ab- 
sence of jealousy between them ; and, with two 
officers acting in concert, this harmony of ideas 
and feelings was of great value. But few offi- 
cers were to be taken in the gunboats ; and 
none of the midshipmen from the Constitution 
were permitted to leave her. The frigate's 
situation would not be nearly so exposed as 
the boat divisions, yet she was the force in re- 
serve to support them all, and would require 
much and skilful manceuvering. Commodore 
Preble, therefore, had use for all his officers. 
These brave young men accepted the inevita- 
ble, and only little Pickle Israel begged and 
pleaded unavailingly with both Somers and 
Decatur to take him along, especially as Mac- 
donough would be with" them. 

Decatur, seeing the little midshipman was 
really in earnest, said kindly : 

" Now, Mr. Israel, let us talk common sense. 
You are as brave a little fellow as ever stepped 
— both Captain Somers and I know that — but 
you could be picked up and thrown overboard 
like a handy-billy by any full-grown man. 
Macdonough is several years older than you, 
and as strong and able to take care of himself 
as any lieutenant in the squadron. Never you 
mind, though ; just as soon as your body grows 
up to your spirit, you will have your chance 
at distinction." 

Poor Pickle had to go back to the Consti- 
tution, fortified only by this promise. 

James Decatur, Stephen's younger brother, 
was put in Somers's division, which consisted 
of three gunboats, while Decatur's consisted 
also of three boats; and each was armed with 
a single long twenty-four pounder. The two 
friends had spent many days and weeks in per- 



fecting their plans ; and when, at noon, on 
August 3, the Constitution flung out the signal 
of battle, each knew exactly what was to be 
done. It was a brilliant day, and the white- 
walled city, with its circle of grim forts, its 
three smart cruisers lying under the guns, the 
castle crowned with heavy mortars, and its fleet 
of gunboats manned by sailors in picturesque 
costumes, made a beautiful and imposing pic- 
ture. The American fleet looked small to grap- 
ple with such a force ; but, although it was 
estimated as about one to five of the Tripoli- 
tan force, every man went into action with a 
coolness and determination not to be excelled. 
At half-past twelve o'clock the Constitution ran 
in, with a good breeze, about three miles from 
the town. The war-ship, with her head to the 
land, signaled to the brigs, schooners, gun- 
boats, and bomb vessels, to prepare for the 
attack ; and, at the same moment, the frigate 
herself was cleared for action. 

It was seen that the batteries were manned, 
and the cruising vessels had lifted their anchors, 
so that the Americans knew that they would 
have a warm reception. At the moment that 
the Constitution wore with her head pointing 
out of the harbor, the Bashaw of Tripoli was 
watching the fleet with a glass, from one of 
the windows of the castle, and he haughtily 
remarked : 

" They will mark their distance for tacking. 
These Americanos have no notion of fight- 
ing ! " But Captain Bainbridge and his offi- 
cers and men, who watched the scene with the 
eager eyes of prisoners hoping for release, knew 
perfectly well that every manceuver made by 
the Americans that day would be only to get 
closer to the enemy. 

By half-past one o'clock the gunboats were 
manned and separated into two divisions. Som- 
ers led the first, with young James Decatur 
commanding the boat next to him while Ste- 
phen Decatur led the second division. Danny 
Dixon, as usual, was acting coxswain; and with 
him was a brawny young sailor, Reuben James, 
who had captivated Danny by his admiration 
for Captain Paul Jones. Danny had, in conse- 
quence, recommended him highly to Decatur. 
" For, Cap'n," he said, " a man as thinks as 
high o' Cap'n Paul Jones as Reuben James 



does, and kin listen once in a while 'bout the 
fight between the Bunnum Richard and the 
S'rapis, is apt to be a mighty good sailor; and 
if one o' them murderin' pirates was to do for 
me, sir, I 'd like to think there 'd be a good 
man to take my place. I 'm a-thinkin', Captain 
Decatur, this arn't goin' to be no picnic, but 
good hard fightin'." 

" Well, Reuben James may be with you if 
you want him," answered Decatur. 

" Thanky, sir," responded Danny ; and Reu- 
ben was the first man Decatur saw when he 
stepped into the gunboat. 

As the two divisions of three gunboats each 
formed and pulled away, they saw two divisions 
of Tripolitan boats, much larger, stronger, and 
more full}- manned, pull slowly out from behind 
the line of reefs. The windward division con- 
sisted of nine gunboats, and the leeward of five, 
while a reserve of five others lay just inside the 
harbor, protected by the reefs. 

As Somers took his place in the gunboat, he 
said to the man at the tiller : 

" Do you see that division of five boats to lee- 
ward ? Steer straight for it, and get within pistol- 
shot of it, when I will give you further orders." 

The breeze was easterly, and with one lateen 
sail drawing well, the boat was soon covering 
the distance between her and her enemies 
across the blue water. The firing had begun, 
and a terrific roar, as the Constitution barked 
out all her guns in broadside, showed that the 
ball was opened. Somers watched until his boat 
was abreast of the Tripolitans, when, himself 
sighting the one long gun amidships, he fired, 
and saw the shot had instant and terrible effect. 

Somers turned round and saw the next boat 
to his, under Lieutenant Blake, a brave young 
officer, drawing off, obeying a signal of recall 
which, however, was made by mistake from the 
flag-ship ; and the very next moment the third 
boat, commanded by James Decatur, caught a 
puff of wind that brought her head round and 
carried her directly into the other division of 
boats, which was dashing forward to attack the 
nine Tripolitan gunboats. 

" Very well," said Somers, with his usual 
calm smile, " as Decatur says, the fewer the 
number, the greater the honor ! So we '11 go 
ahead, boys." 

The sailors gave a cheer, and in another 
moment they were under the fire of the five 
gunboats. The situation of Somers was now 
critical in the extreme, but he gave no sign of 
it in his manner, which was as cool as if he 
were at anchor in a friendly port. He opened 
a steady and well-directed fire that soon began 
to weaken the attack of the Tripolitan boats, 
and not one of them dared to come near 
enough to attempt boarding him. Still, he 
was drawing nearer and nearer the batteries. 
Commodore Preble, who was watching him 
from the Constitution's quarter-deck, exclaimed: 

" Look at that gallant fellow, Somers. I 
would recall him, but he would never see the 

At that, the commodore heard a boyish voice 
at his elbow, and there stood little Pickle Israel. 

" If you please, sir," said he, with the air of 
one making a great discovery, "I don't believe 
Mr. Somers wants to see any signal." 

" You are right, my boy," cried Old Pepper, 
who was in high good humor over the gallant 
behavior of his " school-boy captains"; " but at 
least he shall be supported." 

With that he gave orders, and the ship, 
advancing slowly, but as steadily as if working 
into the roadstead of a friendly port, delivered a 
tremendous fire upon the batteries that were now 
trying to get the range of the daring little boat. 

In spite of Somers's efforts to keep from 
drifting too far toward the reefs and the re- 
serve squadron, by backing his sweeps astern, 
he soon found himself under the guns of one 
of the large forts. The Constitution was thun- 
dering at the forts, but this one was a little too 
near, and her shot fell over it. The situation 
of Somers was now desperate, but his indomita- 
ble coolness stood him in good stead. 

" If we can knock the platform down that 
holds those guns, my men, we shall be all 
right," he cried ; " and see, it is very rickety." 

Then ordering a double charge put in the 
long gun, he sighted it himself. A shot went 
screaming over the water, and immediately a 
cloud of dust, bricks, and mortar showed that 
it had struck the right spot. The platform 
was destroyed, and the battery tumbled down 
among the ruins. 

Somers then turned his attention to the five 



gunboats, that he could now drive still closer to young captain, and her brave crew, hold in 

the reef, and on which every shot from his boat check a force five times her own ; and not until 

was telling. a general recall was ordered did she leave her 

And so, for an hour longer, did the little perilous position, and retire under the guns of 

American boat, with her one gun, her resolute the frigate. 

(To be continued.') 


By F. H. Littlejohn. 

Said the Wasp to the Spider, " Let 's build us a ship, 

With a red maple-leaf for a sail ; 

We '11 fasten it right at the front of a chip ; 

Like mariners bold we will start on a trip, 

And weather the heaviest gale." 

The Spider agreed, and they both sailed away, 

Far over the seas in their dory ; 

But whither they went, I really can't say, 

For they never were heard of again from that day ! 

So that is the end of my story. 


By F. H. Littlejohn. 

" Oh ! see my bicycle airy and light — 
Wheels made of daisies yellow and white, 
All bound together snugly and tight, 
Oh ! I am the champion wheelman ! 

" So, Crickets and Beetles, just clear the road, 
Look out for yourself, my friend, Mr. Toad, 
While I skip along, quite ' k la mode,' 
For I am the champion wheelman ! " 

The Toad quickly jumped, but jumped the wrong way ! 
The Grasshopper hopped from his perch in dismay, 
The wheel went to smash, I am sorry to say ; 
And that was the end of the wheelman. 


By James Barnes. 

The city boy leaned disconsolately against 
the time-eaten railing of the old red bridge, 
and watched the swallows playing cross-tag 
hither and thither over the unruffled surface of 
" Holmes's " mill-pond. He had been in East 
Dover now one whole lonely hour; his face was 
grimy with the dust of travel, and his ears were 
full of cinders. 

Back there in the village his mother and sis- 
ter were unpacking the trunks at the stuffy little 
boarding-house, and he had been turned loose 
— to the relief of all concerned — until the un- 
packing was finished. Mechanically he had 
made his way down the street to where the still 
water of the pond gleamed in the evening light. 

" This place is a beastly hole ! " groaned the 
city boy to himself, banging his feet against the 
side of the bridge, while he glanced down into 
the water beneath him. A small, lean fish, 
near the surface, caught his eye in an instant. 

" I '11 bet you 're the only fish in the pond," 
he said, addressing the lonely little pickerel ; 
and he made it dart to another motionless posi- 
tion by snapping a bit of crumbling wood from 
the bridge railing into the water. " You 're 

not big enough to keep, either," he added, 

This all might have been true enough, but 
nevertheless the city boy's face had brightened, 
as if by magic, at the sight of that narrow little 
fish. If there was any one thing that gave him 
supreme delight, it was to have a rod in his 
hands with a line, and the chance of a nibble at 
the other end of it. This was decidedly an in- 
herited taste, for his father was an ardent an- 
gler, and had named his only son Isaac Walton 

So he leaned further out, and watched the 
deep shadow underneath the bridge. A water- 
rat ran out from among some stones and disap- 
peared in the roots of the alders, and a turtle 
lifted his black-and-yellow head, and then turned 
tail and hustled down into the mud. Master 
Jones stopped grumbling now ; perhaps the 
heavy shade of the trees on the other side of 
the pond sheltered some finny lurkers that 
might be large enough to keep, or, for that 
matter, to eat, — a neat distinction usually settled 
by the cook. At any rate, he contemplated his 
stay in East Dover with less disfavor, and re- 



membered the beautiful split-bamboo rod his 
father had given him for Christmas. 

" What ye lookin' at ? " suddenly inquired a 
voice. Master Jones looked back over his 
shoulder. He was so surprised that at first he 
did not reply. 

There were three of them : three boys, of 
about his own age, with ragged straw hats, 
bare, brown legs, and dusty feet. They were 
regarding the city boy with all of a New Eng- 
lander's frank curiosity. 

" I was looking at a fish," said Master Jones, 
at last. 

" Whar is he ?" said one of the boys, and all 
stepped up beside him, leaning over, with their 
elbows on the broad wooden railing. 

" There he is," he answered, pointing out the 

"Pooh! Shucks! That 's nothin'," said the 
boy, who had his great toe tied up in a rag. 
" We seed somethin' to-day wuth lookin' at ; 
didn't we, Addis?" 

" Wal, we jes' did!" replied the third boy, 
who had black teeth and red hair. " We seed 
him" he added. 

" Who is him ? " asked the city boy, who was 
disposed to be friendly. 

" ' G. Whillikens,' " replied the red-headed boy. 

" He 's a trout," broke in the first. 

'• No; he 's a whale," interrupted the smallest 
boy — " 'mos' as big as your arm." 

Master Jones was all on the alert now. 

" How long ago did you see him ? " he asked 

" 'Bout ten minutes, I reckon," was the answer. 

" Why did n't you catch him ? " 

" He won't bite," returned one of the trio. 
" We bobbed a worm right under his nose, and 
he did nothin' but bump up ag'in it." 

" Father says there 's been more tackle and 
more words wasted on that trout than — than 
ye ever heard on. Ye can't snare him neither; 
Bob Bracket tried it." 

" Can you see him now ? " Walton asked, 
very much excited. 

' ; Ye might if ye hurry ; com' 'long and we '11 
show him to ye," one of his new friends an- 
swered quickly. 

The four boys, headed by the boy with the 
stubbed toe, who limped slightly, trotted away 

up the road. Then they dodged under a fence, 
crossed a bit of meadow, and came out of the 
hardhack and blackberry bushes right on to 
the ruins of Holmes's mill. 

The mill had not turned a wheel within the 
memory of the oldest inhabitant. It had stood 
there in loneliness and silence, and was becom- 
ing more and more dilapidated with every win- 
ter's snow. Scattered about in the bushes were 
strange, uncouth bits of machinery, wooden 
cogs and axles, and a few big grinding-stones. 
A long wooden sluice, through which the water 
rippled swiftly, ended in a deep, wide pool at 
the foot of the dripping, moss-grown dam. The 
boys approached it cautiously. 

" Look thar ! " whispered the guide, pointing 
toward the pool. 

For a minute Walton could discern nothing 
but the dark, rushing water. Then suddenly he 
saw him. There lay " G. Whillikens " — a great, 
black shape in a little quiet corner, protected 
by a projecting, slimy board. The trout grew 
plainer as Walton's eyes became accustomed to 
the heavy shadow. He could see the black 
lines on the huge trout's olive back and the red- 
and- white edges of his balance-fins. The great 
hooked under jaw was working, and there were 
momentary glimpses of the blood-red gills. 
That he was a wary old chap was soon proved, 
for one of the boys rubbed a tiny pebble off the 
bank, and there was a flash and a swirl, and 
nothing left to mark G. Whillikens's resting-place 
but a little cloud of mud and a few dead leaves 
turning over and over at the bottom. 

Walton heaved a sigh, almost of relief. 

" Ye must n't breathe when ye 're watchin' 
him," said the biggest boy, arising to his knees. 
" Le's see how fur ye can fling a stone." 

He scraped one out of the dirt with his bare 
foot. Then he whirled his arm over his shoul- 
der and let drive down the stream. 

The city boy picked up another stone and 
followed suit. It plashed full twenty feet far- 
ther than the village boy's had gone, and at 
this the others looked at Master Jones with 
open admiration. 

" Ye can beat me holler ! " observed the rus- 
tic champion, after a half bushel of small stones 
had found their way down the stream. 

" It 's 'mos' supper-time I reckon," said one 




of the boys at last, after they had chased a 
chipmunk under a pile of old boards, and 
"Addis" had been stung by a yellow-jacket, 
whose nest they had intruded upon. 

" Yes, le's go hum," agreed the red-head. 
" Mar 's cookin' doughnuts." 

" And I want to put some arniky on my toe! " 
broke in the smallest. 

Walton, who was becoming hungry, was glad 
to acquiesce, — boys generally tire at the same 
moment, — so they recrossed the meadow and 
followed the road into the village. 

Mrs. Jones was a little puzzled by her son's 
behavior during the supper-hour. He sat be- 
side her without speaking — a far-away expres- 
sion in his eyes, eating and drinking in silence. 

" Walton 's very tired," remarked the city 
boy's sister, and she tried to persuade him to go 
to bed. But he would not stir until he saw that 
the bamboo rod had arrived safely, and that no 
single fly in the fat brown fly-book was missing. 
Then he went to bed quite willingly. 

How long he slept Walton did not know. 
But he woke and found himself leaning over the 
footboard, gazing down where a moment be- 
fore, he thought, he had seen the great form 
of G. Whillikens swimming over a stream bed 
of rag carpet. 

" I was dreaming," said Master Jones, shut- 
ting his eyes, and preparing to thrust his sturdy 
legs under the bed-clothes again. It was just 
at this moment that he noticed that it was 
broad moonlight outside ; so he jumped to the 
floor, and raising the curtain, he gazed out of 
the half-opened window. 

The whole landscape was aglow with the 
soft gray light. He could see the shadows of 
the honeysuckle vines weaving across the floor 
of the piazza. The next house stood out clear 
and plain amid the surrounding trees, and he 
could catch even the tints of the hollyhocks 
and the white points of the bachelor's-buttons 
growing along the picket-fence. Far away the 
course of the stream was marked by a line of 
pearly mist that hung at the foot of the soft blue 
hills. A few bright stars blazed and sparkled 
overhead. A fisherman is one-third poet, and 
Walton knelt and leaned both elbows on the 

Suddenly a sentence he had read in one of 

his father's books came into his mind : " Trout 
often feed on moonlight nights." 

Silently he stood up and commenced to dress 
himself; his hands trembled as he put the fly- 
book in his pocket and reached in the corner 
for the Orvis rod. Then he climbed quietly 
out of the window — stumbling over a baby- 
carriage and a boy's velocipede ; and, scramb- 
ling over the fence, he found himself in the 
village street. 

It was silent and deserted as he hurried down 
toward the old red bridge, trotting now and 
then, and looking back as if he expected at 
any moment to hear his mother's voice call 
" Walton ! Walton ! " 

But there was no sound, and he saw no sign 
of life or movement. He felt as if he were 
walking through a picture. 

As he dodged under the fence a sleepy bird 
fluttered in the bushes. It startled him, and 
his heart began to beat fast and loud. The 
meadow grass soaked him to the waist with 
dew. Soon he lost the path, and tore his way 
through the tangled hardhacks to the little 
clearing about the ruined mill. Here he paused 
and untied the gray cloth cover of the bamboo 
rod. It glimmered, and the reel buzzed like a 
great insect as he threaded the line through the 
metal guides. Walton had to stop now and 
then to take deep, long breaths. 

At last the line was stretched, and with 
chilled fingers trembling from excitement he 
selected from the fly-book three dainty, tempt- 
ing flies — one " silver hackle," a " white miller," 
and a " royal coachman." He moistened them 
with his lips, stretching the tight, coiled snells 
before he attached them to the " leader." When 
all was right, he balanced the supple rod in 
his nervous hands and stole toward the bank, 
where it shelved away to the silent, swirling 
pool beneath the outlet of the sluice. 

He stood there for a moment without mov- 
ing. The water dripping from the dam seemed 
to beat a regular tattoo ; a dog howled, back 
there in the village, and a fox prowling about 
the lower pond yapped derisively. As he 
watched the dimpling, shifting surface beneath 
him, suddenly he started ; there could be no 
doubt about it — that rush and plash and rip- 
ple meant a rise ! 

i8 9 4-: 


86 5 

G. Whillikens was feeding ! 

Walton's heart seemed to be jumping back 
of his throat and eyes as he raised the rod, 
gathered some slack from the slow-clicking reel, 
and cast out to the middle of the pool. Too 
quick that time ; he must let it float longer 
with the current, — let it sink an inch or so, — 
and draw it slowly. He had been too quick 

Another cast. Flash ! chug ! whip ! whir ! 

the rod sharply to the left, as if G. Whillikens 
had been a minnow. No rod of seven ounces 
could have stood the strain. There was a 
snap — the tip had broken short at the ferule, 
and the city boy gave way to one wild sob. 
Despairingly he followed the slackened line 
with his eye — and there in the shallow right 
beneath him lay the huge fish, swaying from 
side to side, his back-fin out of water. He had 
turned him ! 


He had him .' Boys and girls and fisher- 
men ! — he had him! The line cut the pool 
from right to left, the rod bent to the shape of 
a fish-hook. What did the boy care for noise 
or caution now ? He stumbled over the loose 
planks ; he groaned when the line came toward 
him, and he could not gather it in fast enough 
as the great trout made for the opening of the 
sluice-way. Stop him he must. With the line 
twisted and snarled about his fingers he swung 

Vol. XXL— 109. 

Not a moment to think now ! Walton drop- 
ped the rod, poised himself, and leaped, hands, 
knees, and elbows right down upon him. The 
fish struggled against his breast — slipped through 
the eager fingers, and was clasped again, this 
time more firmly ; and, with the line trailing far 
behind him, Walton quickly clambered out of 
the pool, over the rocks and loose boards near 
the sluice-way, and did not stop till he was some 
thirty feet up the slope where the cows had 



made a muddy hoof-grooved path. There the 
eager boy lay down upon the trout, and held 
hard and fast ! 

G. Whillikens could not break away, although 
Walton could feel the powerful muscles twisting 
in his grasp. It was not for long, however; and 
a few minutes later, with the broken rod hastily 
unjointed, Isaac Walton Jones ran up the road 
again, the broad, flat tail of the trout almost in * 
the dirt. He climbed in at the window, and — 
wonder of wonders ! — tired out with excitement 
fell asleep on the outside of the bed. a " white miller," you would know that this 

Perhaps you think that this is all a dream, is a true story. Beneath the case is this in- 
but if you could see G. Whillikens stuffed and scription : 
mounted inside a glass case, dashing after g. whillikens, weight 3 lbs. 10 oz. 

i«4 the blue-Wrte* 



By Elizabeth Worthington Fiske. 

Meta Jeffrey was a little girl twelve years 
old, who lived in a factory town where the tall 
chimneys and smoke-stacks seemed almost to 
reach the clouds, and where the whirr of 
machinery never ceased; the heavy smoke ob- 
scured the sky much of the time, so that the 
people dwelling in that place almost forgot, 
unless they stopped to think, that the beauti- 
ful blue heaven stretched above. 

Meta was not one of the factory children; 
her father was assistant-superintendent of one 
of the large silk-mills, and now, for some time, 
had been in full charge, as the superintendent, 
Mr. Edwards, was ill, and had gone abroad in 
search of health. 

With her parents and little brother she lived 
in a pretty cottage in one of the suburbs of the 
town, quite near the mill. She went to school, 
and took music lessons, as many another little 
maiden does — quite an ordinary girl, people 
thought ; rather pretty, though, for her cheeks 
were rosy with health, and her eyes were 
bright. Just an affectionate, happy child, lov- 
ing her parents dearly, fond of fun, and stu- 
dious enough, though not particularly fond of 

When the great bell rang in the morning, 
Meta used to watch the people passing into the 
mill. Some of them were girls no older than 
herself ; she knew that they packed the boxes 
of gay-colored sewing-silk, and did like tasks; 
she wondered whether they carried nice things 
for lunch in their baskets, and whether they 
would not be glad to get away into the beautiful 
country that stretched far, far on every side. 
She herself had ridden with her father into the 
country sometimes, and it had seemed like fairy- 
land to her; the trees, the flowers, and the green 
grass made a world so different from the great 
hive in which Meta " had her being," though, 
indeed, she was growing up like a sweet flower 
in spite of the smoke and noise. 

One day Meta's father went to the city to 
look at some new machinery, and when his 
wife kissed him good-by that morning, he told 
her that the business perhaps might detain him 
till the next day. In the afternoon, Meta had 
just returned from a walk with her favorite 
friend, Sue Dallas, and was in the sitting-room 
with brother Georgie, when the maid came 
in, bringing a telegram for her mother. Meta 
noticed that her mother grew pale as she read 
it. " What is it, Mama ? " she cried. 

" Your grandmother is very ill," her mother 
replied. " I must go to her at once. Will you 
take Georgie, dear ? I must get ready quickly." 

The child did as she was told, sobered by the 
news, though not fully understanding the peril. 
Mrs. Jeffrey was in great haste to catch her 
train, and at last decided to take little Georgie — 
Meta was too young to have charge of the child, 
and Norah was careless, while her mother's 
house was large, and there were many servants. 
So Meta helped dress the little boy, and, when 
the carriage came, bade her mother a brave 

" My darling," Mrs. Jeffrey said, as she 
kissed her, " I cannot bear to leave you alone ; 
it is just possible that Papa may come back to- 
night. But, in any case, Norah is very good- 
natured. You must read some nice story, and 
go to bed early. Be sure to see that the front 
door is locked, and then go right to sleep, and 
it will be bright morning when you open your 
eyes again. Papa will be coming home, and I 
will write as soon as I can." 

So the carriage drove away. Meta stood 
looking after it until it turned the corner, and 
then she went slowly into the house. It was 
too soon to be lonely ; it had been so sudden 
a turn of affairs that she had scarcely begun to 
realize it, though the house seemed very empty. 
But she had a trustful soul, and Norah, who 
was a cheerful, pleasant girl, got her a particu- 

S6 7 




larly nice supper, and said, " Shure, Miss Meta, 
the misthress will be home in a day or two — 
with good news, too ! " — and that was com- 

Toward evening, Sue Dallas came in to in- 
vite Meta to spend the night at her house, but 
Meta resisted the temptation. The girl thought 
it would not be honorable to leave Norah alone, 
and she felt besides, it must be said, not a 
little pride in her responsibility as head of the 
house in the absence of her parents. Then Sue 
went home, and, as the evening deepened, the 
maid looked into the sitting-room to say, li Miss 
Meta, if you won't feel strange, I '11 just go 
round the corner to mate a neighbor girl, who 
promised to help me choose a hat this evening; 
I '11 take the kay, so you won't feel troubled, 
and I '11 not be long." 

Meta did not quite like to be left alone just 
then; but Norah was in the habit of going out 
in the evening, and Meta seldom saw her after 
supper-time; so she looked up from " Little 
Lord Fauntleroy," in which she was entirely 
absorbed at the time, and giving a ready as- 
sent, returned to her book. Soon after she 
heard the area gate shut, and felt a thrill as she 
realized that for the first time in her life she 
was alone in the house. But the street, al- 
though in the suburbs, was a cheerful one ; now 
and then the sound of voices, or snatches of 
a song, floated into the quiet room, and the 
lights in the mill, not far distant, winked and 
blinked at her in quite a friendly way ; so she 
settled into content again. 

The evening passed slowly until it was ten 
o'clock — an unusually late hour for her, but 
Meta had come to the most interesting part of 
the beautiful story, and had lingered a little to 
hear Norah come in. The maid slept in the 
basement, and Meta opened the hall door to 
say good night ; but it was very dark and still 
down-stairs, and she closed the door rather 
hastily. The little glow of adventure that so far 
had sustained her had by this time faded ; but 
she saw that the chain-bolt was in order at the 
front door, and that the parlor windows were 
fastened. Leaving a gas-jet burning dimly in 
the hall, as was the custom of the family, Meta 
ran briskly up-stairs to her own little room. 
Here her slight uneasiness vanished, for all was 

pleasant and familiar. Her window fronted the 
street, so that the light shone in as she opened 
her blind after putting out the gas. The little 
maid read a chapter in the Bible, said her 
simple prayer, from her very heart, and was 
soon sleeping soundly. 

It must have been about midnight when 
Meta awoke with a start ; she said afterward 
that it was because the factory bell did not ring 
the hour, — for the watchman always struck the 
hour through the night, answering directly the 
great clock that tolled the time at the city hall. 
The sound of this bell had often mingled with 
Meta's dreams as she turned dreamily in bed, 
and she knew that her father sometimes list- 
ened to catch the peal, especially in that sea- 
son, winter, when the steam had to be run at 
full-pressure. Just as the little girl awoke the 
town clock had struck twelve; but why did not 
the mill bell ring, also ? 

She listened a moment; then sprang from her 
bed and went to the window. She thought she 
might catch a glimpse of Nicholson, the watch- 
man, whose duty it was to make his round, 
beginning at each hour. Certain parts of the 
building were kept lighted through the night, 
and Meta sometimes could see the shadow of 
the watchman's figure as he moved through 
the great rooms on the east side, lantern in 
hand. It was his duty to inspect the entire 
building thoroughly. Meta gazed anxiously. 
All seemed as usual ; but there was no sound, 
no stir, and she began to feel a vague alarm, 
which deepened into dismay. She had often 
heard her father talk about the mill, and knew 
how much he felt the responsibility that had 
come upon him since the illness of the super- 
intendent. If anything went wrong, even during 
his absence, her father was sure to be blamed, 
justly or unjustly. 

Could the watchman have fallen asleep ? 
This had happened once, and the man had 
been threatened with dismissal, but was re- 
tained at the entreaties of his wife, and also 
because he had proved himself in the main 
competent and trusty. He had been an oper- 
ative in the mill at one time, but, having in- 
jured one of his hands, had received this post, 
which served to maintain his large family. 

Nicholson was a friendly old man. Meta 


86 9 

had often talked with him, and he had ex- may fairly say that the impulse might be called 

plained the machinery to her. And now per- an inspiration ; but people attach different 

haps he had gone to sleep, and left his charge meanings to that word. 

exposed to fire or any danger. And he would Meta hesitated no more. She dressed in 

be dismissed ! Yet it was so easy to go to eager haste, yet with a certain care, as persons 

sleep. Meta could not see how it was pos- have been known to do at exciting moments, 

sible for any one to 

keep awake through 

the long dark night. 

She felt a sudden pity 

for the old man, and 

an impulse to help 

him. Ten minutes had 

passed : why should 

she not go and wake 

him, and warn him 

of his danger without 

any one's knowledge? 

She had but to cross 

the street, turn a few 

steps to the right, and 

enter the mill-yard 

(the gates were locked, 

but there was a loose 

boarding in the fence, 

through which Meta 

could easily pass); 

then across the yard 

and up a flight of steps 

which led into the 

mill. She knew the 

little room, not far 

from the office, where 

the watchman sat 

through the night. It 

would not take five 

minutes, and she 

could run back as 


It was a rash 
thought, perhaps, to come into the brain of 
such a child ; but it was not so strange after 
all. She was perfectly familiar with the mill, 
knew just where to go, and this part was kept 
lighted. Her father had said to her that morn- 
ning just before he left, " Now will you watch 
over the mill while I am gone, little one ? " 
and, though she knew that he had spoken in 
jest, the words came back to her with a cur- 
ious force. Perhaps, in view of the event, we 


and, putting on her warm sack, stole softly 
down-stairs and out of the door. 

She shivered slightly as she heard the lock 
click from the inside, but she had remembered 
to put the key in her pocket, and also the key 
to the inside door of the mill, which always 
hung in her father's room. She did not stop to 
think ; she ran swiftly across the street, and a 
few paces to the right. To her surprise, she 
found the gates unlocked! She rushed across 




She thought he was dead, and recoiled in- 
stinctively, but rallying her courage approached, 
and, bending over him, saw that he breathed. 
He was unconscious, and was bleeding from a 
wound in the head. The girl stood for a mo- 
ment paralyzed by fear, then a bright gleam 
shone full in her face, and she heard a dull 
grating noise. There was a dim light in the 
office, and she espied two men bending over the 
safe, trying to force open the lock. 
They had been too much engaged 
to hear M eta's light step; even her 
exclamation had not roused them. 
But, happening to look up; one of 
them saw the child. Meta, not yet 
recovered from her trance of fright, 

the yard, and up the high 
steps, and the great door, 
usually so firmly locked, 
opened as she grasped 
the heavy handle — it 
was, in fact, ajar! 

Meta was puzzled, 
frightened — but she had 
come with a purpose, 
and though she trembled, 
and felt that her heart 
was beating hard, she 
did not think of turning 
back. From the main 
entry she turned into a 
corridor that separated 
the large work-rooms 
from the office and one 
or two smaller rooms, 
in one of which Nichol- -- J 
son was accustomed to 
stay. She stumbled 
against a lantern that 
lay on the floor ; then 
she uttered a short cry, 
for just before her in the 
half-light, only a few feet 

from the office door, lay, motionless, the form 
of Nicholson, the old watchman. 


was standing near the office door, gazing on them 
with wide eyes and a white face. 



He uttered an exclamation, and both men 
rushed toward her. Then, indeed, Meta fled, 
but not through the door she had entered. 
Along the familiar corridor she ran ; then, turn- 
ing to the right, she sped breathless up the high 
stairs, with feet that seemed winged; then up 
the second flight. She heard the men's voices 
behind her, calling, threatening ; the footsteps 
pressed near and nearer ; but now she was on 
the ladder that led to the landing above which 
hung the great bell. 

Once or twice before she had gone up cau- 
tiously with Nicholson " to see him ring the 
bell," as she said ; now she ran up unconscious 
of effort, and stood on the belfry landing, just 
as the two fierce pursuers reached the space be- 
low. The ladder was a movable one, and 
Meta made a brave attempt to draw it up after 
her; but it crashed down the stairway below, 
almost falling on the two robbers, and was 
broken. In the dim light she saw the two 
wicked faces; she saw the bright barrel of 
a revolver pointed at her, while a rough voice 
cried, " Girl, move one step and I will shoot 
you ! " 

For an instant she was dizzy; but she felt 
the bell-rope in her hand. Then Meta pulled 
with all her might, and the great bell sounded 
through the midnight — ringing out an alarm. 

The fire-signals answered instantly, and in 
less than three minutes the building was sur- 
rounded by a circle of strong men drilled for 
emergencies, with the engines of the fire depart- 
ment ; and they were quickly followed by al- 
most the entire force of the operatives. 

Great was the amazement when it was found 
that there was no fire to put out, and the won- 
der grew when they found the wounded watch- 
man. The thieves, surprised, confused, and not 
acquainted with the ins and outs of the mill, 
were captured almost immediately. 

Then came a bewildered pause ; people 
looked at one another in perplexity. Who had 
given the alarm ? There was a rush for the 
belfry, while the crowd without stood peering 
upward, lost in amazement. 

Meta's hat and the broken ladder were 
found on the stairs, and, on the landing above, 
stood a little figure, stretching slender hands 

8 7 I 

into the bridgeless space, while her childish 
voice cried, " Take me clown, please ! " 

A thrill went through the throng, and there was 
a hush while another ladder was brought, and 
a strong man went up. Lifting the girl in his 
arms, he brought her down in safety. 

Then a cheer went up from the men within 
and without, while the women burst into sobs 
of joy. Meta was instantly surrounded ; she an- 
swered the questioning simply, rather wonder- 
ing at the excitement, until Mr. Medway, a 
director of the mill, fearing the effect of the 
continued strain, took the tired child from 
the circle of admirers to his own house. 

Her father returned in the morning, and 
Meta will never forget how he folded her in 
his arms, and said, while tears filled his eyes, 
" My own brave darling ! " 

Nicholson was kindly cared for, and in time 

Heaps of fagots, saturated with kerosene, with 
a fuse attached, were discovered in two separate 
places, indicating that the burglars' plan had 
been to burn the mill after robbing the safe : 
possibly to insure their escape during the tu- 
mult. They were tried, convicted, and are 
now paying the penalty of their misdeeds. 

Meta returned home after a day or two of 
rest, apparently not much the worse for her 
strange experience. A few days thereafter, her 
mother also returned, with the welcome news 
that her grandmother was recovering. So, in 
a week, for this household, life flowed on in 
its ordinary channels. 

Some time afterward, Meta received a beau- 
tiful gold watch and chatelaine guard, — in- 
scribed with her name and the date of that 
exciting night, — a gift from the directors of the 
mill. With it came a note expressing their 
warm appreciation of her noble conduct. At 
about the same time her father was appointed 
superintendent of the factory, and he says, 
laughingly, that he more than half owes his 
promotion to his young daughter. 

The memory of that experience must always 
remain to give Meta a certain self-reliance ; but 
she is growing up a happy, modest, unselfish girl, 
who does not pose as a heroine, although she did 
face a great peril that night, and saved the mill. 


By Brander Matthews. 

As Irving was the first American author New York ; and here, at the point where the Sus- 
whose writings won favor outside of his native quehanna streams forth on its way to join the 
land, so another New Yorker, James Fenimore distant Chesapeake, Cooper's father built the 
Cooper, was the first 
American author 
whose works gained 
a wide circulation 
outside of his native 
tongue. W hile the 
" Sketch Book " was 
as popular in Great 
Britain as in the 
United States, the 
" Spy," and the " Pi- 
lot," and the " Last 
of the Mohicans," 
were as popular on 
the continent of Eu- 
rope as they were 
in America, North 
and South. To the 
French and the Ger- 
mans, to the Italians 
and the Spaniards, 
Fenimore Cooper is 
as well known as 
Walter Scott. Irving 
was the first American 
writer of short stories, 
but Cooper was the 
first American nov- 
elist ; and, to the 
present day, he is 
the one American 
novelist whose fame 
is solidly established 
among foreigners. 

Born at Burlington, 
New Jersey, on Sep- 
tember 15, 1789, 
Cooper was taken in 
infancy to Otsego 

Lake in the interior of reproduced from the steel engraving by Marshall, by permission of d. appleton & co. 

8 7 = 



stately mansion called Otsego Hall. The elder 
Cooper was the owner of many thousand acres 
along the head- waters of the Susquehanna, and 
in this wilderness, centering around the freshly 
founded village of Cooperstown, the son grew 
into boyhood. He could pass his days on the 
beautiful lake, shut in by the untouched forest, 
or in the woods themselves as they rose with 
the hills and fell away into the valleys. He 
slept at night amid the solemn silence of a little 
settlement, a hundred miles beyond the advan- 
cing line of civilization. 

Hard as it may be for us now to realize it, a 
century ago "the backwoods" were in the State 
of New York. It was only during the Revolu- 
tion that the people of our stock had begun to 
push their way across the Alleghanies. For 
years after the nineteenth century began, the 
only white men who sped down the Mississippi, 
or toiled slowly up against its broad current, 
spoke another tongue than ours. Although 
Cooper lived in New York, it was in the back- 
woods that he spent his childhood, and to 
Cooperstown he returned at intervals through- 
out his life. Backwoods scenes and backwoods 
characters he could always recall at will from 
his earliest recollections. The craft of the 
woodsman, the tricks of the trapper, all the deli- 
cate art of the forest, were familiar to Cooper 
from his youth up, just as the eery legends of 
North Britain and stirring ballads of the Border 
had been absorbed by Walter Scott. 

Franklin never had the chance of a college 
education ; Irving was fitted for Columbia, but 
did not enter; Cooper entered Yale, but did 
not graduate — and the fault was his own. It 
was thought that the sea would cure his ten- 
dency to frolic. The Naval Academy had not 
then been established, and the customary train- 
ing for a career on a man-of-war was to gain 
experience in the merchant marine. So in the 
fall of 1806, when Cooper was seventeen, he 
sailed on a merchant vessel for a year's cruise 
shipping before the mast, and seeing not a little 
hard service. Soon after his return he received 
a commission as a midshipman in the regular 

It was a time of peace, although the war with 
Great Britain already was foreseen. In 1808 
Cooper was one of a party sent to Oswego, on 

Vol. XXI.— iio. 

Lake Ontario, to build a sixteen-gun brig. In 
1 809 he was left for a while in command of the 
gun-boats on Lake Champlain. In the same 
year he was attached to the "Wasp," then com- 
manded by Lawrence — the Lawrence who 
was soon to command the " Chesapeake " in 
the action with the " Shannon," and who was 
to die with the immortal phrase on his lips, 
" Don't give up the ship ! " Although Cooper 
saw no fighting during the three years and a 
half in which he wore the uniform of his coun- 
try, he greatly increased his store of experience, 
adding to his knowledge of life before the mast 
on a merchant vessel an understanding of life 
on the quarter-deck of a man-of-war, besides 
gaining acquaintance with the Great Lakes. 

In January, 181 1, Cooper married a Miss De 
Lancey, with whom he was to live happily for 
more than forty years. Apparently at the re- 
quest of his bride, he resigned from the navy 
in May. He dwelt at Mamaroneck in West- 
chester, for several years, at first with his wife's 
father, and then in a hired house. In 1817, 
after a three years' stay at Cooperstown, he went 
back to Westchester, the home of his wife's 
childhood, and there he remained for five 
years. Seemingly content with the simple life 
of a well-to-do country gentleman, Cooper 
reached the age of thirty without any attempt 
at authorship — without even the hankering 
after pen and ink which is the characteristic 
of most predestined authors. The novelist 
flowers late ; Scott and Hawthorne were each 
over forty when " Waverley " and the " Scarlet 
Letter" were published — but they had been 
writing from their boyhood. Cooper's entry 
into authorship was almost accidental. Read- 
ing some cheap British novel, he was seized 
with the idea that he could do as well himself; 
and the result was his first book, " Precaution," 
published late in 1820. "Precaution" was an 
imitation of the average British novel of that 
time ; it had merit equal to that of most of its 
models; it was a tale of life in England, and 
there was nothing to show that its author was 
not an Englishman. Indeed the book was re- 
published in London, and reviewed with no 
suspicion of its American authorship. 

That Cooper, a most loyal and ardent Amer- 
ican, should write a second-hand story of this 

8 7 4 



sort, shows how complete was the colonial de- 
pendence of the United States on Great Britain 
in the first quarter of the nineteenth century 

— so far at least as letters were concerned. 
American literature did not exist. No one 
had yet declared that the one thing out of 
which an American literature could be made 
was American life. When Cooper's " Precau- 
tion " was written, Irving's " Sketch Book " was 
being published in parts ; it was still incom- 
plete, and half of the sketches in the book 
were from English subjects. 

Yet it seems to have struck Cooper that if 
he did not fail with a novel describing British 
life, of which he knew little, he might succeed 
with a novel describing American life, of which 
he knew much. " Waverley " had been pub- 
lished in 1814, and in the next six years had 
appeared eight others of the " Scotch novels,'' 
as they were called; and in the very year 
of Cooper's first book, Scott had crossed 
the border and produced in " Ivanhoe " really 
the first English historical novel, applying the 
method of the anonymous Scotch stories to an 
English theme. Cooper perceived that the same 
method could be applied to an American theme ; 
and in the "Spy," which was published in 1821, 
he gave us the first American historical novel. 

" The Spy " is a story of the Revolution, 
and its scene is laid in the Westchester which 
Cooper knew so well, and which had been a 
neutral ground, harried in turn by the British 
and the Americans : the "Cowboys" and "Skin- 
ners." The time and the place were well 
chosen, and they almost sufficed of themselves 
to lend romance to any adventures the author 
might describe; and even better chosen was 
the central figure, " Harvey Birch," one of the 
most interesting and effective of romantic char- 
acters. To the Spy himself, mysterious but 
winning, was chiefly due the instant success 

— and the success of the story was extraor- 
dinary, not only in the United States at first, 
and a few months later in Great Britain, but 
on the continent of Europe. It was translated 
into French by the translator of the Waverley 
novels; and it was afterward translated into 
most of the modern languages in turn. 

Encouraged by the plaudits of the public on 
both sides of the Atlantic, Cooper wrote an- 

other story, the " Pioneers," published in 1823. 
As the " Spy " was the first American historical 
novel, so was the " Pioneers" the first attempt 
to put into fiction what is perhaps as worthy of 
record as anything in American history — the 
life on the frontier and the character of the 
backwoodsman. Here Cooper was on firm 
ground ; and although he did not fully realize 
the opportunity before him, his book was a 
revelation to the rest of the world. In it ap- 
peared for the first time one of the very great- 
est characters in fiction, the old woodsman, 
"Natty Bumppo," — the Leatherstocking who 
was to give his name to the series of tales which 
to-day is Cooper's best monument. In this 
first book we have but a faint sketch of the 
character the author afterward worked out with 
loving care. Rarely is there a successful se- 
quel to a successful novel, but Cooper returned 
to Leatherstocking again and again until the 
history of his adventures was complete in five 
independent tales, the composition of which 
extended over eighteen years. 

Leaving for the moment Cooper's other writ- 
ings, it may be well to note here that the " Pio- 
neers " was followed in 1826 and 1827 by the 
" Last of the Mohicans " and the " Prairie," 
and in 1840 and 1841 by the "Pathfinder" 
and the " Deerslayer." This was the order in 
which they were written, but very different is 
the order in which they are to be read when 
we wish to follow the career of Natty Bumppo 
from the days of his youth, and to trace the de- 
velopment of his noble and captivating char- 
acter. The latest written is the earliest to be 
read in the sequence of events; after the 
"Deerslayer" comes the "Last of the Mohi- 
cans," followed by the " Pathfinder " and then 
the " Pioneers," until in the " Prairie " the se- 
ries ends with the death of Leatherstocking. 
The five tales vary in value, no doubt, but 
taken altogether they reveal a marvelous gift 
of narration, and an extraordinary fullness of 
invention. Merely as stories their interest is 
unfailing, while they are ennobled by the char- 
acter of Natty. 

Even before the publication of the " Pio- 
neers," in which he introduced the American 
Indian into fiction, Cooper planned another 
story which was as daring a novelty. In 1821, 

i8 9 4) 

the author of the " Waverley Novels," then un- 
ascertained, published the " Pirate." In Coo- 
per's presence, the argument was advanced that 
Scott could not be the unknown author, since 
he was a lawyer, and this showed a knowledge 
of the ocean such as no landsman could have. 
Cooper, who had followed the sea himself, 


lished the " Pilot," the first salt-water novel ever 
written, and to this day one of the very best. 
Its nameless and mysterious hero was a marine 
Harvey Birch ; obviously he had been mod- 
eled upon the Paul Jones whose name is held 
in terror to this day on the British coast he har- 
assed. In " Long Tom Coffin," the Nantucket 

-m-A j 

-v. ^ : -. . ~^ . l~^' «^-. «s? . i-JisaSSSSs^ffiKL-iV - ' ' '< ' 



maintained that the " Pirate " showed that its 
author was not a sailor, since far greater effects 
could have been got out of the same materials 
if the writer had been a seafarer by profession. 
To prove his point, Cooper determined to write 
a sea-story. Sailors there had been in fiction 
before, but no novel the scene of which was 
laid on the ocean; and Cooper's friends tried to 
convince him that the public at large could not 
be interested in a life so technical as the seaman's. 
But Cooper persevered, and in 1824 he pub- 

whaler, Cooper created the only one of his other 
characters worthy to take place beside Leather- 
stocking ; and Tom, like Natty, is simple, 
homely, and strong. In writing the " Pilot," 
Cooper evidently had in mind the friends who 
thought it impossible to interest the general 
reader in a tale of the ocean, and he laid some 
of his scenes on land ; but it is these very pas- 
sages which are tedious to-day, while the scenes 
at sea keep their freshness, and have still unfail- 
ing interest. 




In his second sea-tale, the " Red Rover," 
published in 1828, Cooper avoided this blunder; 
after the story is fairly started the action passes 
continuously on the water, and the interest is 
therefore unbroken. The "Red Rover" maybe 
said to be wholly a tale of the ocean, as the 
" Last of the Mohicans " is wholly a tale of the 
forest. Whether he was on the green billows or 
under the green trees, Cooper was completely at 
home ; he drew from his own experience ; he 
told what he had seen, what he knew. He 
wrote ten sea-tales in all, of which the " Two 
Admirals " and " Wing and Wing," both pub- 
lished in 1842, are the best after the " Pilot" and 
the "Red Rover." In 1839, he sent forth his 
" History of the United States Navy," to this 
day the only authority for the period of which 
it treats. 

It is by the " Spy," by the five Leatherstock- 
ing Tales, and by the four or five foremost of 
the Sea Tales that Cooper's fame must be 
maintained. But he wrote many other novels, 
most of them of little importance. Some of 
them, like the " Wept of the Wishtonwish," 
were American in subject; and some were Eu- 
ropean, like the " Bravo " and the " Heads- 
man." These last were the result of a long 
visit Cooper paid to Europe, extending from 
1826 to 1833. 1° P ar i s ne had the pleasure 
of meeting Scott ; and in Paris also he had 
the pleasure of defending his country against 
ignorant insults. 

There is no need now to deny that Cooper 
seems to have enjoyed a dispute, and he never 
went out of his way to avoid a quarrel. After 
he returned to the United States he became 
involved in numberless arguments of all sorts, 
personal, journalistic, literary, historical. He 
was frank, opinionated, and absolutely certain 
that he always had right on his side. Sure of 
his ground, he bore himself bravely and battled 
stanchly to repel any attacks he had invited. 

His private life was most fortunate. His 
home was happy, and his wife and children 
were devoted to him. He had many friends; 
and his best friends were the best citizens of 
New York. When he moved to the city, in 
1822, he founded a club, called sometimes after 
him, but more generally the " Bread and Cheese " 
Lunch. To this club belonged Chancellor 

Kent; Fitz Greene Halleck, and William Cullen 
Bryant, the poets; S. F. B. Morse, the inventor of 
the telegraph, and other representatives of the 
arts, the sciences, and the learned professions. 
Before Cooper went to Europe in 1826 these 
friends gave him a public dinner, at which 
Chancellor Kent presided and at which De 
Witt Clinton, the governor of the State, Win- 
field Scott, the head of the army, and Charles 
King, the future president of Columbia Col- 
lege, were present. After his return from Eu- 
rope in 1833, the same group of distinguished 
men tendered to him another banquet, which 
he declined. 

Nearly a score of years after, when he was 
sixty years old, and when he had lived through 
the storm of abuse which he had injudiciously 
aroused, his friends again made ready to give 
him a public testimonial of their regard; but 
before the arrangements were perfected he 
died. He had retired to Cooperstown years 
before, and there with his family he had been 
happy, superintending work on his farm, and 
writing when he chose. His death took place 
on September 14, 1851, at Cooperstown, to 
which he had been taken as an infant three 
score years before. Had he lived another day, 
he would have completed his sixty-second year. 
His wife outlived him less than five months. 
A few days after his death a meeting of promi- 
nent men was held, over which Washington 
Irving presided, and as a result of this, William 
Cullen Bryant was asked to deliver a discourse 
on the life and writings of Cooper. This ora- 
tion, spoken early in the next year, remained 
the best account of the novelist until Professor 
Lounsbury prepared for the American " Men of 
Letters " series the admirable biography which 
appeared in 1882. 

A consideration of Cooper's place in literature 
involves a comparison with Scott. In the first 
place, the Scotchman was the earlier of the two ; 
it was he who widened the field of the ro- 
mance; it was he who pushed the novel to the 
front and made fiction the successful rival of 
poetry and the drama ; it was he who showed all 
men how an historical novel might be written. 
Cooper is the foremost of Scott's followers, no 
doubt, and in skill of narration, in the story- 
telling faculty, in the gift of imparting interest 

i8 94 : 



to the incidents of a tale, Cooper at his best is 
not inferior to Scott at his best. 

Like Scott, Cooper was a writer of romance ; 
that is to say, he was therefore an optimist, an 
idealizer — one who seeks to see only the best, 
and who refuses to see what is bad. Scott 
chose to present only the bright side of chivalry, 
and to make the Middle Ages far pleasanter 
than they could have been in reality. Probably 
Scott knew that the picture he gave of England 
under Richard the Lion-Hearted was mislead- 
ing ; certainly he knew that he was not telling the 
whole truth. Now Cooper's red Indians are 
quite as real as Scott's black knights, to say 
the least. Cooper's Indians are true to life, ab- 
solutely true to life — so far as they go. Cooper 
told the truth about them, — but he did not tell 
the whole truth. He put forward the exception 
as the type, sometimes; and he always sup- 
pressed some of the red man's ugliest traits. 
Cooper tells us that the Indian is cruel as Scott 
tells us that a tournament was often fatal; but 
he does not convey to us any realization of 
the ingrained barbarity and cruelty which was 
perhaps the chief characteristic of the Indian 
warrior. This side of the red man is kept in 
the shadow, while his bravery, his manliness, 
his skill, his many noble qualities are dwelt on 
at length. 

The characters that Cooper depicts best, are 

simple in their strength, — like Long Tom Coffin 
and Natty Bumppo. When he sets before his 
readers unexplained characters like the un- 
named " Pilot," and like the captain of the " Red 
Rover," we are puzzled rather than charmed. 
In the figure of the Spy, — Harvey Birch, — by 
a happy accident he was able to combine, in a 
measure, some of the mystery of the pilot and 
the pirate with the simple strength of the sailor 
and the scout. 

Time may be trusted safely to make a final 
selection from any author's works, however 
voluminous they may be, or however unequal. 
Cooper died almost exactly in the middle of the 
nineteenth century ; and already it is the " Spy" 
and the " Leatherstocking Tales " and four or 
five of the " Sea Tales " which survive, because 
they deserve to survive, because they were at 
once new and true when they were written, be- 
cause they remain to-day the best of their kind. 
Cooper's men of the sea, and his men of the 
forest and the plain, are alive now, though other 
fashions in fiction have come and gone. Other 
novelists have a more finished art nowadays, 
but no one of them all succeeds more com- 
pletely in doing what he tried to do than did 
Cooper at his best. And he did a great service 
to American literature by showing how fit for 
fiction were the scenes, the characters, and the 
history of his native land. 

■»l"'7 A." 




(.4 True Story. ) 

By Gervis Howe. 

Five or six summers ago, when I was just 
so many years younger than I am now, and 
not much more than half-grown, my friend 
Tom Bowers and I spent two or three months 
sailing a 21-foot open cat-boat over the waters 
of one of the many harbors which open out 
upon Long Island Sound. Tom's summer 
home was at the head of the harbor, and as I 
lived conveniently near, and close to the shore, 
there was n't a day, barring Sundays, for two 
months that we were not aboard the " Bessie 
B.," — that was the " cat's " name. 

Now Tom and I had been at this sort of 
thing, knocking around the water in one boat 
or another, almost every day all summer for 
several years ; and consequently we had pretty 
much used up all the ordinary adventures 
which most readily occurred to us. We had 
raced big boats that beat us because they were 
too big, and we had raced little boats that beat 
us because they were too fast. We had lain to 
over the deep lobster-hole, hauled in and paid 
out three hundred feet of thin rope all day, and 
gone home with nothing but the redness of 
four terribly chafed hands to remind us of the 

lobsters that were not; and we had done so 
many other things. 

Tom Bowers's father was vice-president of 
one of the lines of big passenger-steamers which 
ply through the Sound between New York and 
eastern ports ; and in the course of a trip up the 
Sound and back, the previous summer, on the 
" Priscilla," Tom and I had become partic- 
ularly well acquainted with her pilot. While 
we were on the steamer I said to Tom that I 
thought it would be great fun to come out some 
night in the cat and signal the Priscilla, and Tom 
asked the pilot if he would give us the three 
whistles in case we did so. Of course the pilot 
said he was willing to do a little thing like that 
to please us ; and thereupon we forgot all about 
the matter until one of those hot, still, dry, mid- 
summer days when it was so dry one could n't 
even whistle for a breeze. I never knew what 
made Tom think of the Priscilla scheme unless 
it was that there was n't a single other scheme 
to think about. All of a sudden he said he 
was going to write Pilot Higginson that very 
night, and the next afternoon we would go out 
and signal the Priscilla. 


8 79 

Well, then we resolved ourselves into a com- 
mittee of the whole to discuss ways and means. 
You see it was now along the latter part of Au- 
gust, and the Priscilla did n't go by our harbor 
until ten minutes to seven, some time after 
dark, so no ensign-dipping or anything of that 
sort would do. We finally concluded to get a 
lot of red fire in the village, sail out of the har- 
bor late in the afternoon, so as to get to the 
regular track of the steamers before dark, and 
then cruise back and forth across the track until 
we saw the Priscilla's lights, when we would run 
down on her at a safe distance, burn our red 
fire, and get the glory of the responsive salute. 

That night Tom wrote Pilot Higginson, and 
we bought the red fire. The next morning the 
wind came out very sharp from the northwest; 
there were pretty big seas and lots of white 
caps, and what was worse, the wind kept on 
blowing harder and harder, until along about 
the middle of the day we made up our minds 
there would be no salute for us that night. 
In the afternoon, however, the gale began to 
moderate rapidly, and at half-past four we got 
under way under a double reef and began to beat 
out of the harbor. The wind ran down so fast 
that in half an hour we had shaken out a reef, 
and an hour later the breeze was on its last legs 
and we were gliding gently along under all sail. 
A little before sunset we were a full mile south 
of the steamer track, and the wind kept on get- 
ting weaker and weaker, until we were afraid 
we should never get near enough the Priscilla 
for her to pay any attention to our lights. Still 
we had a little good luck, — or bad luck, — and 
just as the sun went down we crawled over the 
track; and just as the sun went down the wind 
went out like a lighted candle in a bucket of wa- 
ter. I tell you what, we boys were glad we 'd 
gotten there at last, especially after it had seemed 
so doubtful all day, and then the breeze dying 
away and all that; so we just let everything go 
and set to work spreading the red-fire powder 
all around the deck just outside the combing. 
The deck did n't seem over dry, because, as is 
usual on still August nights, a very heavy dew 
was beginning to fall. As soon as we got 
through with this we lay down comfortably to 
await the appearance of the Priscilla's lights. 

We lay there about half an hour or so, 

munching away at a bite of cold supper, as 
happy, and about as intelligent, as a couple of 
clams at high water, when all of a sudden ap- 
peared the lights of a steamer swinging around 
the point about three or four miles away. We 
were sure at once that she was the Priscilla, 
because the Priscilla left her pier half an hour 
earlier than the other fast boats, and, dropping 
the slow ones, always headed the regular even- 
ing procession before she reached our harbor. 
There were ten minutes to spare before our red 
fire would be required, so we just sat there and 
watched her lights. When the steamer first 
came in sight she was almost broadside on, and 
we could see the electric lights from her cabins, 
and occasionally the glow from her starboard 
furnaces, that side being toward us, as well as 
her white steamer light at the masthead. As 
she kept swinging around the point, to lay the 
new course east, which she would hold for a 
hundred miles or more, pretty soon she showed 
us her starboard (green) light. Then she kept 
on swinging further and further around until she 
showed her port (red) light also. Then she 
stopped swinging, and came right on. I re- 
member when she first showed her green light, 
I thought that of course she was going to leave 
us on her starboard side, and that when she 
afterward showed her red light, I thought she 
was going to leave us on the port side ; but 
when she continued to show both lights we 
were busy putting the finishing touches on the 
red-fire arrangements, getting the matches 
ready, etc., and I don't think I thought any 
more about the steamer's lights for two or three 

I suppose we took it for granted that she 
would sheer again one way or the other, prob- 
ably keeping to starboard, in a few minutes. 
But she did n't ; she kept straight on in a bee- 
line, and when we looked up from our work 
and saw those big green and red eyes coming 
nearer and nearer, while the dull roar of the 
machinery grew louder and louder through the 
still damp air of the summer night, we both 
simultaneously concluded that we had better 
move, for she was coming as straight at us as if 
it were daylight and she saw us and intended 
to split us exactly in half. Of course we had 
no anchor, light, or lantern. I know we ought 



to have taken one with us, but we had n't ; and 
as to seeing our boat without a light in time 
to sheer off, why she 'd have cut us in two, 
and left the pieces a hundred yards astern 
before she could have gone the necessary 
twenty-five or fifty feet or so out of her course. 
There was n't a breath of air stirring, and Tom 
sung out to me to get the sweep, which we 
usually carried lashed to the deck, overboard. 
The sweep was at home, leaning up against the 
boat-house, where I had put it after giving it a 
coat of spar-varnish that morning; so I did n't 
bother about the sweep, except to think how 
stupid I was to have left it behind, but jumped 
down into the cock-pit to see if I could find 
a piece of board, or pull up some of the false 
floor, or, in short, get anything that would do 
to paddle with. Tom saw what the trouble 
was, and jumped down to help me, but there 
was n't enough loose wood in all that boat to 
make a toothpick of; so then we gave that up, 
and since we could not get out of the steamer's 
way, we thought we would light our red fire 
soon enough for her to see the blaze and get 
out of our way. 

I remember I was n't scared a bit up to that 
time, and Tom told me afterward that he 
was n't either, because we both felt very sure 
that we could set off our red light any time we 
chose. By this time the steamer was getting 
so near that we could see some faint trace of 
her outline and could hear the band playing 
on her forward deck; and she was still coming 
as straight at our little boat as if she were a 
gigantic projectile sent with unerring aim from 
some mammoth gun. 

The first match I struck on the damp deck 
sputtered a moment and went out ; with the 
second I was too hasty and broke the stick; 
but the third I lighted carefully on the heel of 
my shoe, then I held it until the wood was well 
burned, and then I reached out at arm's length 
and touched the flame to the powder. We ex- 
pected to see a tremendous flash and blaze, but 
I held that match down in that powder until 

the wood had burned clear down to my fingers 
and my fingers smarted with pain; and for all 
the result, the powder might just as well have 
been so much wet sand. The fact is, the heavy 
dew had played havoc with it. Tom of course 
was trying his best to light the powder also, 
but I know I have never been so scared in all 
my life as I was while we held the matches in 
the powder and the powder would not take fire. 

The steamer was now so near that it seemed 
as if all must be over in a few moments. With 
her lights and smoke and all, she looked like a 
whole city coming down on us. There was no 
chance of diving and staying down beneath 
that enormous length of keel, and I could al- 
most feel the blows of her great paddles. I 
struck more matches by twos and threes and 
tossed them into the powder without effect ; 
and then looking up at the vast hulk rushing 
upon us, now clearly visible to the eye, I was 
surprised to see that the red light had disap- 
peared, but the green was still there. Then 
the monstrous prow, tearing the water asunder, 
rushed past, not over us ; a tremendous blaze 
of red fire enveloped our little craft and lighted 
up the whole side of the steamer ; passengers 
rushed excitedly to the rails ; we were lifted on 
one enormous wave, and then, dropping down 
into a hollow, were left safe in the seething 
suds of the white wake of the fast receding 

I suppose one of the matches had chanced 
to strike a place where some of the powder 
was dry, and that first started it going and then 
set it all off at once. 

Somehow or other — I don't know just how 
— we got home about midnight. We supposed 
that we had in some way which we could not 
divine been seen from the steamer; but our 
friend the pilot afterward told us that such was 
not the case. He knew nothing about passing 
our boat until we told him of it. He distinctly 
remembered altering his course a trifle just at 
that point, but did not know why he did so. It 
was the only change he made for a hundred miles. 


By M. M. D. 

If it were not for fairies, this world would be drear; 

(I 'm sure they are true, — heigh-ho !) 

The grass would not tangle, 

The bluebells would jangle, 
And things would be stupid and queer, you know, 
And everything dull if the fairies should go. 

(I 'm sure they are true, — heigh-ho !) 

I love to believe in the godmothers's mice, 
And Hop-o'-my-Thumb, heigh-ho ! 
And it 's cruel in Willy 
To call me a silly. 
If brothers would only be nice, you know, 
Not tease and make fun, all my troubles would go,- 
I 'd believe in the fairies forever, — heigh-ho ! 

Vol. XXI.- 


By Antoinette Golav. 

" Do you believe, Cousin Kate, that any one 
could keep up a one-sided correspondence 
long ? I have written three letters in suc- 
cession to Edith Howard while she has been 
crossing the ocean, and I do not believe I can 
write another until I hear from her. It is n't 
that I don't like her just the same; but it is 
simply no use ! " 

The despairing correspondent cast down her 
pen and looked for consolation to the lady 
reading at the table near by. 

Cousin Kate looked up responsively and 
pondered a minute over the question. Then 
suddenly she laughed. " Yes, Grace," she said, 
" I believe that it is possible to have all the 
letters come from one side. In fact I know 
it, for I tried it once for a while, and made 
quite a success of it, though I confess that it 
was hard at times." 

" Tell me about it," demanded Grace, basely 
deserting her letter and establishing herself on 
the rug before her cousin. 

" I am very willing to tell you about it, but I 
warn you that it is a long story. However, it 
may teach you a bit of a lesson as it taught 
me; so prepare to listen. 

" In the first place, then — I have known Helen 
Mason ever since we both were tiny children. 
We went to the same school, and the same 
church, but Helen and I were never really 
friends until after her father's death. I remem- 
ber how pathetic she and her little sister looked 
when they sat in church the first Sunday, in 
their little black frocks, and hats with white 
flowers and black ribbons. I looked at them 
from across the church with a feeling almost of 
awe, their sorrow seemed so to set them apart 
from the rest of us. How was I to know that 
my own father was so soon to be taken away 
from me ? He died that same summer, and 
when I went back to school the girls were shy 
with me just as we all had been shy and con- 
strained with Helen and her sister. 

" Softened by her own grief, she understood 
better than the rest how to sympathize with 
mine. I do not know that she really did much 
except to sit beside me in class and lend me 
pencils without waiting to be asked, but there 
was an atmosphere of sympathy about her that 
was balm to my sore little heart. And later, 
when the sharpness of our grief had softened 
and the black gowns had been laid aside, Helen 
and I developed a singleness of purpose and 
union in mischief that went far toward crazing 
our teachers and made us boon companions. 

" But this is not telling about the correspon- 
dence. I '11 come to that at once. After we 
had danced through a few more years of happy 
school-life there came separation. Helen went 
to Europe and I to college. I believe that 
until then it had never occurred to us that we 
were very fond of each other. But when we 
suddenly realized that we were soon to have 
the ocean, and probably some years, to separate 
us, we were sufficiently miserable. The night 
before she sailed — it was in June, and I was to 
enter college in September — we took a long 
walk along the lake and decided that though 
our friendship had been hardly more than a suc- 
cession of laughs and scrapes, it should brave 
absence and stand through thick and thin. 
' You won't decide at college that I am too 
untaught for you ? ' Helen asked. 

"And I replied sturdily, ' Nonsense ! There is 
more danger that you will find during your 
travels that your penned-up college friend is 
too stupid for you.' We parted with very little 
fear that either would prove inconstant. 

"Throughout the summer both of us wrote 
regularly. And in the fall I went to college, 
where at first I crippled my allowance, buying 
five-cent stamps to send to my friend homesick 
laments for the good old days. Such sunny, 
interesting letters she wrote me ! Now I won- 
der, and cannot understand how, I ever came to 
the conclusion that they were not satisfactory, 



and that she was not at all my ideal friend. 
Yes, my dear. You look shocked, and I do 
not blame you ; but it is a fact that I began to 
feel that Helen was not a satisfactory friend. 
I suppose it was because the girls about me 
were so different. Helen had been as shy of 
demonstration as I was, and it was a revela- 
tion to me to see these girls with their arms 
locked and their speech overflowing with affec- 
tionate expressions. When one or two of them 
bestowed upon me some of these pretty little 
attentions, I found it surprisingly easy to re- 
spond, and came to the natural if not very 
sensible conclusion that friendship could not 
properly exist without them. So when I found 
that I could be effusively demonstrative upon 
occasion I decided that I had not been really 
fond of Helen, and, by the same logic, I came 
to think that she had not been very fond of me. 

'• Moreover, to a girl plunged for the first 
time into an atmosphere of absorbing books 
and study, where 'learning' is the word and 
'dig ever' the motto, outside matters seem of 
little importance. So Helen's letters with their 
bright bits of description and entertaining little 
anecdotes seemed to upstart freshman me not 
improving, and therefore not worth while. 

'• One day, just before Christmas, I carried 
my troubles to a senior who had taken some 
notice of me, and to whom I gave a blind 
devotion because of her glittering social superi- 
ority in the little college- world wherein we lived. 
' Do you think, Miss Gray,' I asked, ' that cir- 
cumstances ought to rule our affections ? ' 

•' I was proud of that sentence, but it natu- 
rally puzzled Miss Gray. ' That circumstances 
ought to rule our affections ? ' she repeated. 
'Now, just what do you mean?' 

" I explained to her that I meant, ought we 
to feel bound to care more for a person whom 
circumstances had thrown in our way and 
whom we had perhaps known a great man)' 
years than for other people whom we had 
perhaps known only a few weeks, but for whom 
we felt an intense liking. 

" Then my great and noble senior made a 
very silly speech. ' Katherine,' she exclaimed 
reproachfully, ' I hoped you had grown more 
than that this year. Have you not learned 
that two human beings should stand soul to 

soul ; and that there are few things more per- 
nicious than a servile loyalty to persons whom 
you have really outgrown ? ' 

" That extraordinary utterance has always 
remained with me. I think that perhaps the 
secret of my admiration for Miss Gray was due 
to her way of uttering high-sounding sentences 
with an air of conviction that did much to im- 
press her hearers. I went away feeling that I 
had gained ' broader ideas of life,' and by way 
of putting them in practice I did not write my 
usual Sunday letter to Helen that afternoon. 

" Helen's letters came regularly, but mine 
grew less frequent, and finally stopped altoge- 
ther, except for occasional cold, stiff notes of 
which I ought to have been ashamed, but 
which I felt reflected great credit upon my 
superior intellect." 

" But, Cousin Katherine, what did Helen 
think of that ? Was n't she angry ? " said Grace. 

" Yes," said that lady, smiling a little at some 
recollection called up by Grace's words. " Yes, 
she was decidedly angry. Helen was not a girl 
to be neglected and to meekly submit. She 
wrote and demanded the reason for the change 
in my letters ; and demanded it at once, saying 
she did not relish being experimented upon 
in that way. And, Grace, what do you suppose 
I did?" 

Looking down at her small cousin's grave 
face Miss Kate laughed merrily, then checked 
herself suddenly. 

" Indeed I do not know why I laugh," she 
said. " It is no laughing matter, except that it 
was so supremely idiotic. I deliberately sat 
down and wrote Helen the most remarkable 
epistle I have ever penned, telling her gravely 
and frankly of my change of heart. I begged 
her not to feel that I thought she had ' deterio- 
rated' when I told her I had come to see that 
our friendship was a mistake ; that she was to 
me, as she had always been, a very charming 
girl, but that during the past year I had grown 
to realize that friendship demanded something 
more — ' a deep intellectual companionship ' 
which we had never felt. I believe I told her 
in substance that while I could not waste my 
precious time writing to her I was still always 
glad to receive her letters. I know that I rec- 
ommended various books calculated to raise 

88 4 



her mind to a plane from which she could ap- 
preciate my feelings. And then I sent off the 
letter, which unfortunately did not burst with 
its own conceit, but crossed the ocean and 
reached Helen in Switzerland. 

" It was a long time, of course, before a reply 
could possibly come ; and I was more anxious 
than I cared to confess to myself to know the 
manner of her reception of my letter. I think 
that half unconsciously I expected an enthusias- 
tic and admiring reply, a humble form of 'Oh, 
be my friend and teach me to be thine.' But if 
I did I was greatly mistaken. When Helen's 
reply came it was cold and clear and rather 
sarcastic. She said I had attained heights to 
which she had never even aspired, that during 
the course of her existence she had read the 
books I mentioned, which, she remarked in 
parentheses, could be found outside my college 
library, but that they had failed to elevate her 
to anything approaching the summit where I 
stood ; that she still cherished weak-minded 
loyalty to her friends in general, and was quite 
without any desire to change ; that while she 
was fully conscious of the honor conveyed in 
my permission to her to write, she thought best 
not to avail herself of it. It was a letter not 
much more tender and noble than mine had 
been. Only at the end was a postscript where 
there was a bit of her true self. ' Oh, Kitty,' it 
said, ' I am so sorry and disappointed ! ' 

" If the letter had come to me at college, 
especially during the excitement pervading our 
lives with the commencement festivities on 
hand, I might have read it carelessly and felt 
more than ever a high-souled martyr. But it 
reached college a day after I had left, and was 
forwarded to me at home. I read it there in 
the midst of all the people and places that 
recalled Helen, because when I had last seen 
them she was there. I was beginning to re- 
alize what an important part of it all she had 
been, and was ardently hoping that my letter 
had been lost at sea or received as a huge joke, 
when the little note came to shatter all my 
hopes and make me feel what a goose I had 
been. And now, dear," she said, glancing down 
to see how much patience Grace had left, 
" now I have come to the one-sided corre- 
spondence. It began at once with a series of 

contrite and apologetic notes which I sent 
almost semi-weekly, and to which I received 
never a word of reply. Quite conscious that I 
did not deserve any, I kept on writing, always 
with some words of repentance of what I 
frankly dubbed my idiocy, and always with 
eager endeavor to make my letters worth read- 
ing. Naturally it was rather hard on my impa- 
tience, and one day, in a particularly frantic 
frame of mind, I wrote a despairing note to 
serene little Polly Mason, who had more than 
once been confidante and councilor when 
Helen and I had come to grief. I begged 
her to write me in what spirit Helen received 
my letters, and if it was worth while for me to 
go on writing. In due time came a note from 
this grave and sagacious young person, who 
had always been wise beyond her years. 

" ' Helen has not said much to me about it,' 
she wrote, ' but I know she is very much hurt, 
and I think she does not intend to write to you. 
I think she believes you will stop when you go 
back to college. My advice to you is to write 
as often as you feel inclined through the year, 
whether she answers or not. I think it will all 
come out right.' 

'• Inspired by this sound advice, I continued 
my unanswered letters to my silent friend. It 
was a very full year. I regret to say that I lost a 
great deal of my freshman conceit, and mixed 
much outside fun with my work. But with all 
the work and play, I was never too busy to 
write the weekly letter to Helen. And such 
letters ! I was determined to prove myself 
worthy of the friendship I had so stupidly and 
needlessly forfeited, and I wrote always on my 
finest, class note-paper, and took an amount of 
pains given to none of my other correspon- 
dents. I grew to take a certain pleasure in the 
letters, and I believe no other writing I have 
ever done has helped me as much as all those 
unanswered letters. For they were unanswered. 
Helen was deeply hurt, and all the winter and 
spring passed away without a line from her. 
Only from time to time Polly sent me cheering 
little notes, without which I should hardly have 
had the courage to go on writing. 

" Vacation came again, and I went home, 
knowing that Helen would be there almost as 
soon as I, and feeling very embarrassed and 

l8 94 .] 


88 5 

forlorn when I thought of seeing her. All our thing except that she was there twelve hours 
friends were excited at the prospect of her before I expected her, and instead of the elab- 

return, and asked me whenever they saw me 
just when she was to arrive. Those were hard 
days for me. I would not confess to them that 
I had had no letters from her during all the 
winter, and I dreaded constantly that they 
would suspect it. 

" At last some one said to me one day, ' Is n't 

orate greeting I had planned I gasped raptur- 
ously, 'Helen, dear! — how are you here so 
soon ? ' 

" ' We came just half an hour ago,' she said, 
' and I have n't been home at all ; I came 
straight here from the station. Oh, Kitty, 
have n't we been geese, and are n't we glad 

it jolly that the Masons are to be here to-mor- to see each other! 

row ? ' and I went home to sit forlornly on a log 
near the lake and wonder if I should go to call 
alone or ask some of the girls to go with me. 

" I was just deciding to be brave and go by 
myself and have it over, when Helen herself 
stood before me looking so delightfully famil- 
iar and pretty that I forgot all about every- 

"So all clouds vanished in a moment. From 
that day, we have been affectionate friends and 
cronies. And that is the cheerful end of my 
one-sided correspondence." 

'•Thank you very much," said Grace; "I 
really feel encouraged to write to Edith. But 
I do hope she '11 answer within the year." 


By Annie Isabel Willis. 

Dorothy Dole with a hand-painted bowl 
Went out to get some honey. 
" Please, Mr. Bee, a quart," said she, 

" And here is yellow money." 

She held the bowl up with a buttercup, — 
How very, very funny! 

Dorothy dear, O hark and hear 
What the buzzing bee is singing : 
" The honey sweet lies at your feet 
In clover tops a-swinging." 

So fill your bowl, my Dorothy Dole, 
With all that summer 's bringing. 


By V. Lansing Collins. 

When you 've seen the shadows falling 

O'er the swamp-land chill, 
If you 're near it, wait — you '11 hear it; 

Sounds as if 't were some one calling, 

Whoo — ccp ! perwill ! 

Wait until the moonbeams yellow 

Steal up o'er the hill ; 
Then it 's night-time and the right time 

For the bird to call that mellow 

Whoo — eep ! perwill ! 


If I say "boo," he '11 scowl at you, 
And wrinkle up and growl ; 
But he won't bite a single mite, 
Unless you run and howl. 

8s 7 



By Howard Pyle. 

[Begun in the April number.} 

Chapter XIV (Continued). 

Hezekiah Tipton's office was empty when 
Attorney Burton came upon the afternoon ap- 
pointed. It was a dull, wet day — a steady 
downpour of moisture that had chilled the little 
man through and through. He was very damp 
and uncomfortable, and he was very much irri- 
tated when he found that the old America mer- 
chant was not in. He waited and waited, but 
still Hezekiah did not come. The minutes 
dragged themselves along into hours, and the 
hours dragged themselves along into two or 
three, the little attorney's impatience becoming 
ever more and more keen and irritating. " I 
don't know what the man means by keeping me 
thus," he muttered for the fiftieth time. " Plague 
upon him ! I '11 make him pay for keeping me 
in this way." He got down from the stool on 
which he sat perched, and walked uneasily up 
and down the room. 

The dusk of early evening began to settle 
gloomily. The rain was falling more heavily 
than ever. There was the sound of approach- 
ing footsteps in the rain outside. " If that 's 
not he," said the little man aloud, " I '11 go." 

Then the door opened, and the old America 
merchant came in, wet and sodden with the 
penetrating rain. He did not seem to see the 
other, but went straight across the room, and 
took off his hat and coat and wig and hung 
them up. Then he wiped his head, and then he 
put on his loose, threadbare office-coat and 
skull-cap. The little lawyer stood staring at 
him. He was very irritated, and the old man's 
deliberation stirred him to a sudden nervous 

" You 've kept me waiting a long time, Mas- 
ter Tipton," he broke out, " and I can tell you, 
sir, I 'm little pleased with you for it." 

Vol. XXL— 112. a 

" Hey ! " said the old man, and he turned 
facing the lawyer for the first time. " Kept 
you waiting, d' ye say ? Well, how could I 
help that, Master Burton? — how did I know 
ye 'd come so early in the art'noon? And then, 
did n't I have to wait down on the wharf to 
talk to Mr. Bilbow? — and that kept me, aye, 
a great while longer than a body 'd a-thought. 
But now ye 're here and the day 's so late, 
won't you stay to supper, Master Burton ? " 

" No, I won't," said the little man, angrily; 
" I came here to talk business with you, Master 
Tipton, and not to eat with you. Here I 've 
been three hours swinging my heels and waiting 
for you. I don't know why I wait on you so 
neither. 'T is you who should wait on me in 
this business." 

The old man looked steadily at the attorney 
through the twilight gray of the office for a 
little while. " Well, what is it you want, Mas- 
ter Burton ? " he said at last. 

" What do I want ? Why, you know very 
well what I want, Master Tipton. You can't 
have forgot what I told ye yesterday. I want 
some settlement or other in this business of 
your nephew's ; and I want it without wasting 
any more time about it." 

By this time the dusk of the office had grown 
gloomy indeed. Hezekiah went out, returning 
presently with a couple of lighted candles. 
" Now then, Master Burton," said he, " I am 
ready to talk with you." He spoke very 
sharply. " You told me yesterday you had 
some papers of some sort ; have you got 'em 
with you now ? " 


" Well, then, let me see them." 

The attorney handed the little packet across 
the table. "You are to understand," said he, 
" that these are only copies." 

" Aye," said old Hezekiah ; " I understand. 




T3ut tell me, Master Burton, where be the 
originals ? " 

■" Why," said the attorney, " I have them 
safe enough." 

" Yes, I dare say so. But suppose some- 
thing was to happen to you, Master Burton, 
would n't those papers be apt to cause some- 
body trouble ? " 

" No fear of that," said the little lawyer. 
" I 've managed it so that no one will touch 
them but myself. They shall be handed over, 
Master Tipton, to anybody who chooses to pay 
me a hundred pounds for them, and to nobody 
else, and when they 're handed over I 'm ready 
to give bond to have no more to do with this 

" And does no one else know aught of these 
papers ? " 

" No," said the attorney, " I sell them to the 
man as buys them and to nobody else." 

"That 's right, that 's right," said the old 
man. He adjusted his spectacles as he spoke, 
untied the packet, opened the first paper that 
came to his hand and began slowly and delib- 
erately reading it. When he had ended the 
reading he began carefully reading it over 
again. When he had thus finished reading 
it for the second time, he turned the paper 
over and examined it closely, and then he began 
to read it through for even the third time. His 
deliberation was very exasperating to the little 
lawyer, already irritated by the long delay he 
had been subjected to. He shuffled his feet and 
moved restlessly in his seat, but his uneasiness 
did not in any way seem to hurry or confuse 
old Hezekiah in his slow and careful perusal of 
the paper. 

When, upon having thus read it over three 
times, he had finished the first, he took up the 
second paper and gave it the same close and 
deliberate scrutiny, and when he had laid it 
aside he took up the third in the same careful 

Meantime the gray had disappeared from 
the sky, and the office windows, as the attorney 
glanced toward them, looked out upon a night 
seemingly as black as pitch. At last the old 
man finished his reading. He took off his 
spectacles, laid them at one side upon the 
desk, gathered up the papers one by one, tied 

them carefully with the tape, and handed them 
across the desk to the lawyer. 

" Well, Master Hezekiah," said the little 
attorney, " you 've read the papers now ; what 
do you think of 'em, and what do you intend 
to do about this business ? " 

" Why," said the old America merchant, 
" I '11 tell you what I 've made up my mind to 
do, Master Attorney. I '11 give you my written 
promise to pay you just seventy pound five year 
hence, and interest in full at four per cent., if 
you '11 give me all the papers in this business 
and go home and say no more about it." 

The proposal was so sudden and unexpected 
that the attorney did not know what to make 
of it at first. He stared blankly at Hezekiah. 
" What ? " he burst out at last. " Seventy 
pounds! — five years! — why, you don't know 
what you are talking about, Master Tipton. I 
told you truly that I did n't choose to go to the 
Americas, and I don't choose if I can help it; 
but you know very well that if I do go there 
and find Master Jack Ballister, and bring him 
back, and help him to bring suit for conspiracy 
against you, — for I know very well 't was you 
who kidnapped him, Master Hezekiah, — there 'd 
be far more than one hundred pounds in it for 
me. No, no ; I won't sell what I know for 
seventy pounds, and that 's flat." 

The old man listened impassively to all he 
said. The little lawyer waited, but the other 
said nothing. " Come, come, Master Tipton," 
the lawyer began again, " let 's talk it over rea- 
sonably. You make some proposition I can 
meet, and I '11 think it over. But seventy 
pounds! — five years hence ! Why, 't is out of 
the question." But the old man seemed to 
have drifted back into his usual dull state. 

" I '11 give you seventy pound, to be paid in 
five year," said he. " That 's what I said, and 
I '11 stick to it." 

The little attorney sat glaring at him. He 
was bitterly and cruelly disappointed. " I see 
you 're in no mind to be reasonable, Master 
Tipton," said he. almost choking with anger. 
" Very well ; I '11 go, but you '11 hear from me 
again as sure as you 're alive, Master Tipton." 

He slipped down slowly from the stool as he 
spoke, and picked up his hat. He lingered for 
a moment with his hand upon the latch, having 



a faint, waning hope that the old man might call 
him back; but Hezekiah said nothing. He, 
also, had gotten down from his stool, and had 
come around to the front of the desk. 

" Won't you stay to supper, Master Burton?" 
said he. 

" No, I won't," said the attorney. Then he 
stepped out into the court. It was as black as 
pitch. A faint light shone in a window, part 
way down the inky length, and there was a 
lamp in the street beyond ; otherwise the dark- 
ness was impenetrable. The little man hesi- 
tated for a moment. Hezekiah had followed 
him to the door. " Have you a lantern, Master 
Tipton ? " he asked ; " why, 't is as dark as a 
wolf's mouth ! " 

" No," answered Hezekiah, " I have no lan- 
tern ; I '11 hold the candle for you if you want 
me to, but 't is only a step to the street." 

At first, as Master Burton slipped and stum- 
bled along in the darkness upon the uneven 
cobbled footway, he thought of nothing but of 
the difficulties of walking ; but the darkness 
around him was so impenetrable that thoughts 
of personal danger gradually edged themselves 
into his mind. " What if some one should 
attack me here in the darkness ? " thought he. 
But the thought was only fugitive, for he recol- 
lected directly that Hezekiah was standing 
behind him at the door of his counting-house, 
and that the street lamp was not twenty paces 
away before him. " 'T is only a step," he said 
to himself with renewed courage. 

Suddenly, as he went slowly and uncertainly 
along, he heard the sound of footsteps in an 
alley-way behind him. They came out upon 
the street in the direction he was going. A 
keen, nervous thrill seemed to pierce through 
his breast, and in spite of himself he quickened 
his steps. The end of the street was not twelve 
paces away, but with the blind impulse of ner- 
vous fear that sometimes overtakes one in the 
darkness, it was as much as he could do to 
keep from running. Suddenly, close behind him 
there was a noise of hurrying feet. The thought 
flashed through his mind, " Somebody is after 
me! " but he reassured himself; " no, there is the 
street corner and a light ; no one would hurt me 
here." The next instant there came a crash as 
though the heavens had burst asunder, a flash- 


ing flame of livid fire and a myriad sparkling 
points of light. The thought shot through his 
brain, " It has happened after all," and then the 
sparks had vanished, and the roaring in his ears 
had hummed suddenly away into silence. 

Hezekiah, as he stood at his counting-house 
door, holding the candle in his hand, and peer- 
ing down the darkness of the court, heard the 
heavy, cruel blow ; then, a moment later, a 
smothered groan, then stillness. He stood lis- 
tening intently for an instant, and then drew 
quickly back into his office. Shutting the door, 
he stood holding the latch in one hand and the 
candle in the other. 

He was breathing thickly with excitement. 
" I 'd 'a' given him seventy pound," he whis- 
pered — "but he would n't take it." 

Chapter XV. 


There was nearly always company of some 
sort or another at the Roost when Mr. Parker 
was at home. The house was just now pretty 
full of company. Among others Mr. Harry 
Oliver was a guest at the old house. 

The Dunmore Plantation had once been one 
of the richest in Virginia. But it had now 
gone altogether to ruin, for Mr. Parker had not 
money to spare for keeping it up. 

Everything had fallen into a careless, shift- 
less manner of living, of which Jack had caught 
the contagion. Even the knowledge that he 
might at any time be punished, perhaps se- 
verely, for his neglect of his duties, could not 
keep him always up to the point of attending 
to them. He spent a great deal of his time 
at the stables, gossiping carelessly with Dennis 
and the negroes, and sometimes Mr. Parker 
was very angry with him. 

Jack was late one morning in bringing Mr. 
Parker's shoes to him. Mr. Parker was walk- 
ing up and down in his stocking feet, and 
Harry Oliver was sitting laughing at him. 
" Where have you been with those shoes, sir- 
rah ? " called Mr. Parker. " Here have I 
been sending all around the house for you, and 
you nowhere to be found, and I with no shoes 
fit to wear!" 

" Why, your honor," said Jack, as he kneeled 




upon the floor and buckled them to Mr. Park- 
er's feet, " I 've been lacquering them. I had 
them over in the stable." 

Harry Oliver burst out laughing. 

" Over in the stable ! Over in the stable ! " 
said Mr. Parker. " Why did you have my 
shoes over in the stable ? " 

" Why, your honor, the lacquer bottle is over 
at the stable." 

" Why do you keep the lacquer bottle over 
at the stable ? " 

" I don't know, your honor," said Jack. 
" But it hath always been there, and so I take 
the shoes over there to lacquer them." Again 
Harry Oliver burst out laughing. 

" Well, that 's no place for the lacquer bottle 
to be, or for you to take my shoes either. 'T is 
my belief that you 're there to idle away your 
time. Now do you see that hereafter you 
keep the lacquer bottle over here, and don't 
take my shoes over there to lacquer them any 
more. D' ye hear ? " 

" Yes, your honor." 

Mr. Parker frowned down at him with his 
handsome, florid face for a moment or two. 
" You do ill enough in your place," said he, 
" and are not worth the victuals you eat. I 
tell ye, sirrah, I '11 have a change or else I '11 
know why." 

" Yes, your honor." 

Again Mr. Parker stared gloomily at Jack in 
silence. " I 've been too easy with you. I '11 
have you whipped the very next time you 
slight me. Now go and curl my wig; it should 
have been done yesterday and not left till this 
morning. And then get everything ready to 
shave me." 

" Yes, your honor," said Jack ; and as he 
hurried away he was buoyed up with a pro- 
found feeling of relief that he had escaped so 
well without punishment. 

Mr. Parker was away from home. Jack had 
heard him tell Mrs. Pitcher that he intended 
to be gone for a week. The same day Dennis 
and the negroes began making ready the hoy, 
a large sail-boat, to go down the river to the 
Roads on a fishing-trip. 

Jack was very melancholy, for Dennis's going 
with the negroes would leave him almost alone 

in the Roost. It seemed to him as though 
everybody was going away. 

" How far is it you go, Dennis ? " said he. 

" About forty mile," said Dennis. 

" How long will you be gone ? " 

" About three or four days." 

" He 's going to take me," said Little Coffee. 

" Are you really going to take him too ? " 
asked Jack. 

"Why, yes," said Dennis; " methought he 
might as well go." 

Jack's spirits fell heavier than ever. Even 
Little Coffee was going. " I 've a great mind 
to go along too," said Jack. 

" Why, how can you go ? " said Dennis. 
" His honor gave you no leave to go. Sup- 
pose his honor was to come back and find 
you 've gone away with me, what d' ye sup- 
pose '11 happen then ? " 

" A fig for his honor ! " said Jack. " I 'm 
not afraid of his honor. Anyhow, I 'm going 
with you, unless you choose to stop me from 

" No, I '11 not stop you," said Dennis. 
" You 're your own master for me." 

" Will you wait for me, Dennis, till I go up 
to the house ? " 

" I '11 wait," said Dennis, " till the boat 's 
ready ; and that '11 be a half-hour maybe." 

Peggy Pitcher was busied about the house, 
and Jack could not find her at first. " Well, 
Mrs. Pitcher," said Jack, " I 'm going off fish- 
ing with Dennis." 

" And what if his honor comes back ? " said 
she. " If he comes back and finds you gone 
he '11 not spare you, 't is my belief." 

Jack looked out of the window. They were 
just pushing off the hoy. Jack ran down-stairs, 
out of the house, and down to the landing. 
The hoy was afloat, and they were just shoving 
it off from the landing against which it had 
drifted. "Wait for me, Dennis," he called, 
and he ran and jumped into it. " You might 
have waited," said he, "as you said you would." 

" I did n't say I would wait," said Dennis, 
" and you should n't go, anyhow." 

" Well, then, you said 't would take you a 
half-hour to get ready to start." 

Dennis made no reply, and the next moment 
they had the boat free from the wharf. Jack 



helped the negro raise the patched and dingy 
sail. The canvas flapped heavily ; the blocks 
creaked and rattled as they hoisted the jib. 
Dennis put down the tiller and the boat came 
about, the sail filling out smooth and round as 
the negroes drew the sheet taut. " About ! " 
he called, and Jack crouched down and the 
boom came swinging over. As the boat heeled 
over to the wind, Jack looked back toward the 
Roost as it dropped away astern, and then for 
the first time a heavy and uncomfortable cloud 
of doubt as to the consequences of what he was 
doing overshadowed him. He almost wished 
he had not come. But he thrust the thought 
away from him, and presently the still lurking 
feeling of discomfort was almost smothered in 
the joy of the breeze and the open sky. " How 
far did you say you had to go, Dennis ? " said 
he, sliding along the uptilted weather rail, on 
which he was sitting, toward Dennis at the 

" Maybe about forty miles," said Dennis. 
His look lingered upon Jack for a second or 
two. " Suppose you 've got yourself into trou- 
ble," said he, " for running off this here way, 
what '11 you do then ? " 

Jack laughed, but he felt that there was the 
sound of constraint and uneasiness in his laugh. 
" Why," said he, " 't is n't one chance in a hun- 
dred his honor '11 come back. Anyhow 't is too 
late to talk about that now." 

It was afternoon when they approached the 
fishing-ground. Every now and then Dennis 
peered down into the water over the edge of 
the hoy, as it drifted along close-hauled to the 
wind. Two negroes stood ready to drop the 
sail, and one stood in the bows to throw over 
the anchor when Dennis should give the order. 
" Let go ! " shouted Dennis suddenly, and the 
sail fell with a rattle of the block and tackle, 
and in a heap of canvas. At the same time 
the negro in the bow threw the anchor over- 
board with a great loud splash. 

It was not till the middle of the afternoon 
that they began fishing. Jack and Little Coffee 
were the first to throw their lines overboard. 
As he sat watching the negro boy, Jack hoped 
with all his might that he might catch the first 
fish. But it did not seem possible that a fish 
would bite at his hook in time. Then all of a 

sudden there came a sharp, quivering pull at 
his line and he instantly began hauling it in. 
For a moment he thought he had lost the fish, 
but again he felt the shuddering and dragging 
at the line, and knew that it was hooked. He 
hauled in the wet and dripping line wildly hand 
over hand, and in another second had jerked 
the fish into the boat, where it lay flashing and 
splashing and flapping upon the boards of the 
bottom. "I caught the first fish, Little Coffee!" 
he shouted. 

" Look dar, now ! " said Little Coffee testily. 
" Fish just bite at my line and you talk and 
scare um away." 

" How could that scare a fish away ? " ex- 
ulted Jack as he set a fresh bait upon his hook. 
" To be sure a fish can't hear, for it 's got no 

" Yes, fish can hear," said Little Coffee, draw- 
ing in his line and making a pretense of setting 
his bait to rights. " Fish can hear quicker dan 
a white boy." 

Dennis laughed as he threw his hook over- 

Jack jeered derisively. " Why, that 's all 
foolishness, Little Coffee," said he ; and Little 
Coffee, who could not think of anything more 
to say, glowered at him in glum silence. 

Toward evening they hoisted up the anchor, 
and two of the negroes poled the hoy to the 
shore. Jack was the first to jump from the 
bow of the boat to the white, sandy beach 
littered with a tangle of water-grasses and 
driftwood washed up by the waves. A steep 
bluff bank of sand overlooked the water. Just 
beyond the brow of the bluff was a rude open 
shed built of boards. Jack scrambled up the 
sliding, sandy bank, and stood looking around 
him. For some little distance the ground was 
open; beyond stood the outskirts of the virgin 
forest. Jack stood and gazed about him with 
thrilling delight at the newness and strangeness 
of everything. 

The negroes built a fire in front of the shed, 
and by and by one of them came up from the 
shore with some fish which he had scaled and 
cleaned in the water below. They cooked 
them in a pan with some bacon, and Jack did 
not know until a smell of frying filled his 
nostrils how hungry he was. They had also 

8 94 



raked up some oysters from the beds, and Jack, 
following the example of the others, set about 
roasting some for himself in the hot coals. 
Little Coffee danced about the fire with mon- 
key-like antics. " Dat boy yan," said he, in 
his yelping voice, pointing to Jack as he spoke, 
" ran away dis morning. De master '11 cum 
back while he 's gone. Um ! Urn ! Won't he 
catch it when he git back again ! " He swung 
his arm in a grotesque pantomime of thrashing 
somebody, contorting his black face and hop- 
ping around and around. 

The negroes burst out laughing, and Dennis 
looked on, as he smoked his pipe, with a sort 
of grim tolerance. Jack laughed, but he felt 
that his laugh was forced. " Never you mind, 
Little Coffee," said he ; " 't will be all right 
enough with me. I 'm not afraid, and of that 
you may be sure." 

" You be 'fraid enough in de back room when 
de master he got hold your collar, and ridin'- 
whip in hees hand," yelped Little Coffee, and 
once more he began thrashing the air, harder 
than before, and hopping around. "Off! Ow! 
Ow ! " he howled in mimic agony. 

" I tell you what 't is, Little Coffee," said 
Jack ; " you make a fool of yourself acting like 

Little Coffee stopped suddenly in his antics 
and looked glumly at Jack. " I no more of a 
fool than you," said he. But Jack was satis- 
fied that he had checked Little Coffee in what 
he was saying. 

" I tell you what it is," said Dennis; "'t would 
have been better if you 'd not come along in 
the hoy, and that 's the truth." 

" Why, I don't fear anything, Dennis," said 
Jack. " The master 's going away for two 
weeks, and he '11 not get back while I 'm gone." 

" Maybe he won't," said Dennis, " and may- 
be he will." 

Jack sat in silent thought for a long while. 
"I tell you what it is, Dennis," said he; "if 
ever the master undertakes to treat me ill, I '11 
take that chance to run away." 

" Ho ! " burst out Little Coffee, incredulously. 
" You no run away, boy ; you be 'fraid to run 
away. The master he catch you runnin' away, 
he kill you." 

" I would n't let him catch me," said Jack. 

" What Blacky says is true," said Dennis to 
Jack. " You can't run away in this part of the 
country as if you were in Maryland or Penn- 
sylvania. There be too many rivers and waters 
to cross. There 's only one place you could 
get to, and that 's down to North Caroliny. 
But how could a boy like you, and a stranger 
to the country, get down that far, d' ye think ? 
— with swamps and woods, not to speak of 
rivers and the like ; a matter of a hundred mile 
or more, I reckon." 

" But I would n't try to go down to North. 
Carolina," said Jack. " What I 'd do would be 
to take a ship back to England again." 

" Why, how could you do that ? " said Den- 
nis. " Where could you get money enough to 
pay for a passage to England ? " 

" I would n't need money," said Jack. " I 'd 
work my way across." 

" D' ye think so ? " said Dennis. " Well, 
then, but you would n't. Why, there ain't one 
ship-master out of twenty if they laid hands on 
you but what 'd sell ye over again in the first 
port he 'd come to." 

" He would n't sell me," said Jack, " if I 
could offer him more money than he could get 
for selling me. And I could do that, for I 've 
got a fortune of my own at home — six thou- 
sand pounds." 

Dennis did not choose to argue the question 
further, but sat smoking in silence. 

They sailed home the next day. As they came 
nearer and nearer to the end of the trip, the 
heavy oppression that had brooded over Jack, 
at first began to settle upon him again ; and 
when the roof and chimneys of the Roost came 
in sight around the bend of the river, the 
weight of his apprehension made him almost 
physically sick. As he walked slowly up toward 
the house, it seemed to him that his feet were 
as heavy as lead. What if his master should 
have come back ? Mrs. Pitcher stood at the 
glass putting on her cap. 

"Has his honor come back?" asked Jack, 

Mrs. Pitcher looked at him out of the glass. 
" Well, no," said she, " he has n't, and 't is a 
mightily good thing for you. Sometime or 
other you '11 get yourself in as pretty a mess 
as ever I saw in all my life. Here I 've been 

i8 9 4.; 



wanting you to help me about the house too. 
I 've a great mind to tell him about you when 
he comes back." 

" Would you, then, do such a thing as that, 
Mrs. Pitcher ? " said Jack. 

" I 've a mind to." She was looking nar- 
rowly at her chin in the glass. " What did you 
do with his honor's court-plaster ? " said she. 
" I want a patch for this pimple on my chin." 

" I don't know where the court-plaster is," 
said Jack sullenly. 

It was nearly two weeks before the Roost 
saw Mr. Parker again. He was in a singularly 
absent, silent mood. 

" Here," said he, " take my coat and shoes, 
and then fetch me my dressing-gown and my 

"Yes, your honor," said Jack, briskly; and 
he hurried away, almost running, bringing the 
dressing-gown, and holding it while Mr. Parker 
thrust his arms into the sleeves. 

" You may go now," said Mr. Parker, after 
Jack had unbuckled his shoes and he slipped 
them off. " Wait — tell Mrs. Pitcher to send 
me up a pipe of tobacco." 

" Yes, your honor," said Jack. He won- 
dered with some apprehension if Mrs. Pitcher 
would really tell of his going away fishing ; but 
the day passed and nothing was said, and he 
concluded that all was gone by. 

The next afternoon, however, Mr. Parker 
suddenly said : " Is this true that Mrs. Pitcher 
tells me — that you ran away fishing?" 

The question was so sudden that Jack did 
not know what to say or where to look. Mr. 
Parker was looking steadily at him; he could 
not return the gaze. Mr. Parker was perfectly 
calm, and his calmness lent all the more weight 
to what he said. " I have naught to say to 
you," said he ; " but if I ever come home and 
find you away I '11 — hear what I say — I '11 
flay you alive. Do you hear ? " 

" Yes, sir," said Jack, breathlessly. His 
master gave him one more lingering look, 
and then he turned away. Jack could hardly 
believe his escape. 

" 'T was a shabby business for you to tell 
upon me," said he to Mrs. Pitcher. Peggy 
laughed. " Well, what did you run away for, 
then ? " said she. 

Chapter XVI. 


Mr. Parker had been home three days 
when a stranger visited the Roost. It was 
after nightfall. 

Jack was reading aloud from a well-thumbed 
and tattered little book called " Tarlton's 
Court-witty Jests," to Mrs. Pitcher, who sat 
idly listening to him. Mr. Parker was in the 
room beyond, and every now and then Jack 
would pause in his muttered reading, and the 
two would turn and look toward the master, 
to be sure that nothing was needed. 

A loud, sudden knock upon the door startled 
the stillness of the house. Jack pushed back 
his chair, grating noisily upon the bare floor, and 
hurried to open the door. A tall, brown-faced 
man, with a great heavy black beard hanging 
down over his breast, stood on the step. His 
figure stood out dimly in the light of the candle 
from the darkness of the star-lit night behind. 
The brass buttons of his coat shone bright in 
the dull light. " Is Mr. Richard Parker at 
home, boy ? " the visitor asked in a loud, hoarse 

"I — I believe he is, sir," said Jack hesitat- 

" Hath he any visitors ? " 

" Why, no," said Jack ; " I believe not to- 

The stranger pushed himself by Jack into 
the house. " I want to see him," said he 
roughly. "Where is he?" 

Mrs. Pitcher had arisen, and had managed to 
quietly close the door of the room in which Mr. 
Parker sat. "And what might be your business 
with his honor, Master ? " said she. 

" Well, Mistress," said the man, " that is my 
affair and not yours. Where is Mr. Parker ? " 

At that moment the door that Mrs. Pitcher 
had closed was opened again and Mr. Parker 
appeared. He wore a silk night-cap upon his 
head, and carried his pipe in his hand. " 'T is 
you, is it, Captain ? " said he coldly. " I had n't 
looked to see you so far up the river as this ; 
but come in here." 

He held the door open as the other entered 
and then closed it. " Sit down," said he, point- 



ing toward the table with the stem of his pipe, 
" sit down and help yourself." 

As the stranger obeyed the invitation, Mr. 
Parker stood with his back to the great empty 
fireplace looking with his usual calm reserve, 
though perhaps a little curiously, at his visitor. 
The other coolly tossed off the glass of toddy 
he had mixed for himself, and then wiped his 
mouth with the palm of his hand. Then thrust- 
ing his hand into an inside pocket of his coat, 
he brought out a big, greasy leather pocket- 
book. He untied the thongs, opened it and 
took from it a paper. " Here 's that note of 
hand of yours, Mr. Parker," said he, " that you 
gave me down at Parrott's ; 't is due now some 
twenty days and more, and yet I have received 
nothing upon it. When may I look for you to 
settle it ? " 

" Let me see it," said Mr. Parker calmly, 
reaching out his hand for it. 

The other looked at him quizzically for a 
moment, and then without a word replaced the 
paper in his pocket-book, tied the thongs and 
thrust the pocket-book back again into his 
pocket. " Why," said he, " methinks I 'd rather 
not let it go out of my hands, if it 's all the 
same to you." 

Mr. Parker's expression of cool superiority did 
not change a shade, but he shrugged his shoul- 
ders ever so slightly. " Why, Mr. Captain 
Pirate," said he, dryly, " methinks then you 're 
mightily careful of small things and not so 
careful of great things. If I were of a mind 
now to do you some ill turn, what do you think 
is to prevent me from opening this window and 
calling my men to knock you on the head, tie 
you up hand and foot, and turn you over to the 
authorities ? Governor Spottiswood and my 
brother would be only too glad to lay hands 
on you, now you 've broken your pardon, and 
fallen under the law again. What 's to prevent 
me from handing you over to my brother, who, 
seeing that you murdered his son, would rather 
than ten thousand pounds have the chance of 
hanging you ?" 

The other grinned. " Why," said he, " I 've 
taken my chances of that. I dare say you 

could do me an ill enough turn if you chose — 
but you won't choose." 

" Why, Mr. Pirate ? " said Mr. Parker, look- 
ing down at his visitor coldly. 

" Because, Mr. Tobacco-planter, I 've made 
my calculations before I came here. I know 
very well how you depend upon your honora- 
ble brother for your living, and that he 'd cut 
you oft" with a farthing if he knew that you 'd 
been so free and easy with me as to sit down 
quietly at table with me and lose four or five 
hundred pounds to me at play. You can afford 
to give your note to any one but me, Mr. Spend- 
thrift Parker, but you can't afford to give it to me 
and then lord it over me. Come, come! Don't 
try any of your airs with me," said he, with sud- 
den ferocity. " Tell me when will you settle 
with me in whole or part." 

Mr. Parker stood for a while looking steadily 
at his visitor, who showed by every motion and 
shade of expression that he did not stand in 
the least awe of him. " I don't know," said 
Mr. Parker at last. " Suppose I never pay 
you ; what then ? " 

" Why, in that case I '11 just send the paper 
to your brother for collection." 

Another long space of silence followed. 
" Look 'e, sirrah." said Mr. Parker at last, " I '11 
be plain with you. I can't settle that note just 
now. I have fifty times more out against me 
than I can arrange for. But if you '11 come — 
let me see — three days hence I '11 see what I 
can do." 

The other looked suspiciously and cunningly 
at him for a moment or two. " Come, come, 
Mr. Tobacco-planter," said he, " you 're not up 
to any tricks, are you ? " 

" No ; upon my honor." 

The other burst out laughing. " Well, then, 
I '11 be here three days from now," said he. 

Jack and Mrs. Pitcher, as they sat in the 
next room, heard nothing but the grumbling 
mutter of the two voices, and now and then the 
sound of the stranger's laugh. " What d' ye sup- 
pose he 's come for, Mrs. Pitcher ?" asked Jack. 

" Like enough for money," said Mrs. Pitcher 

(To be continued.') 

Vol. XXI.— in. 

8 97 


(Seventh paper of the Series, " Quadrupeds of North America") 

By W. T. Hornapay. 

Part II. 

The Grizzly, Barren-Ground, and 
Cinnamon Bears. 

Personally, I have more respect for His 
Majesty, the Grizzly Bear, than for any other 
animal I ever trailed, the 

[Ur-sus Iwr-rib'-il-is.) 

tiger not excepted. It is 
quite true that many an 
able-bodied Grizzly is caught napping and killed 
" dead easy," as the base-ball language says, 
but so are big tigers also, for that matter. In 
fact, I knew of one large tiger weighing within 
five pounds of five hundred, who was promptly 
laid low by two bullets from a mere pop-gun of 
a rifle, and there was no fuss about it, either. 

It is easy enough to kill a Grizzly at a good 
safe distance of a hundred yards or so, which 
allows the hunter to fire from three to six shots 
by the time the teeth and claws get dangerously 
near. But to attack a fully grown and wide- 
awake Ursus horribiUs in brushy ground at 
twenty or thirty yards' distance is no child's 
play. As an old hunter once quaintly expressed 
it to me, " A Grizzly Bar '11 git up an' come at 
ye with blood in his eye after he 's nominally 
dead ! " The point of it is, this bear is so big, 
and so enveloped in long, shaggy hair, his head 
is so wedge-like, his strength and tenacity of 
life so great, and his rage when wounded so 
furious that at that short range he is hard to 
kill quickly, and kill so dead that he cannot 
get a blow at the hunter. 

The strength in a Grizzly's arm is tremen- 
dous, and when the blow comes accompanied 
with claws five or six inches long, like so many 
hooks of steel on a sledge-hammer, it tears to 
shreds what it fails to crush. There are many 
authentic instances on record of hunters and 
trappers who have been killed by Grizzly 
Bears, and I believe it could be proved that 

this animal has killed more men than all the 
other wild animals of North America com- 
bined, excepting the skunks and their rabies. 

In the days of the early pioneers, the only 
rifles used were the muzzle-loading, hair-trigger 
squirrel-rifles of small caliber, and they were no 
match for the burly Grizzly, either in speed or 
strength. As a result, Bruin had the best of 
it, and in time brought about a perfect reign 
of terror among the frontiersmen who tres- 
passed upon his domain. For my part, I cer- 
tainly would not want to attack a big Grizzly 
at short range with my father's old Kentucky 
rifle, of 32 caliber, unless I had my will made, 
and all my earthly affairs in shape to be left 
for a long period. But with the rise of the 
breech-loader the tables turned ; and, like all 
other dangerous animals, the Grizzly soon 
found that the odds were against him. To be 
sure, he still kills his hunter now and then, 
sometimes by one awful stroke of his paw, and 
sometimes by biting his victim to death. But 
he has almost ceased to attack men wilfully 
and without cause, as he once did. Unless he 
is wounded or cornered, or thinks he is cor- 
nered and about to be attacked, he will gen- 
erally run whenever he discovers a man. But 
when he is attacked, and especially if wounded, 
he gets mad clean through. Then he will 
fight anything, even a circular saw, so it is 
said, and give it five turns the start. 

While it is quite unnecessary to offer a de- 
scription in detail of this well-known species, 
something must be said regarding his colors. 
His coat changes so easily it would seem as if 
he really cannot make up his own mind what 
it shall be at last. I have examined scores of 
skins from many places with a view to finding 
out what his geographical home has to do 
with it ; but no sooner do I think I have found 


8 99 

the limits of a special color, than a specimen 
turns up which completely upsets all my theo- 
ries. It really does seem, however, that usually 
the coat of the Californian Grizzly is brown, 
and those of Rocky Mountain specimens are 
usually gray or dirty white. Hence the name 
" Silver-tip " is in use for this variety. 

is almost white in color, that among hunters he 
is distinguished as the Rocky Mountain White 
Bear, that he seldom, if ever, reaches one 
thousand pounds in weight, and is more fero- 
cious and aggressive than the same species in 
other regions. The Californian Grizzly weighs 
as much as two thousand pounds, and he is 


There has always been much talk and dis- 
pute among unscientific observers regarding the 
color differences between Grizzly Bears of dif- 
ferent regions. Any old hunter or trapper will 
assert with his last breath that there are at least 
two well-marked varieties, and some will even 
say four. Naturalists recognize only one species, 
but cheerfully admit the color differences from 
the type. On this point the opinions of an old 
hunter, who was in his day a renowned Grizzly 
Bear specialist, are of decided value to us. 
James Capen Adams, known to the world as 
" Grizzly Adams," after spending many years in 
many places in the society of Grizzly Bears, 
asserts that the Grizzly of the Rocky Mountains 

of a brown color, sprinkled with grayish hairs. 
When aroused he is the most terrible of all 
animals to meet; and feats of extraordinary 
strength are recorded of him. Ordinarily he 
will not attack man. The Grizzly of Oregon 
and Washington rarely grows to the great size 
of the Californian animal, but it has a browner 
coat. In New Mexico the Grizzly loses much 
of his strength and power, and becomes, for 
him, a rather timid and spiritless animal. 

This, at least, is quite clear : that in the mat- 
ter of color there are two well-marked types, 
which, taken without the puzzling shades be- 
tween, are sharply defined. One is the brown 
coat, which has very dark, brownish-black 





under-fur, the outer one-fifth of each hair being 
yellowish brown, the next two-fifths brownish 
black, and the rest chestnut brown. The coat 
is darkest on the shoulders. 

In sharp contrast with this is the coat of the 
Silver-tip Grizzly, with no black in the hair save 
on the lower joints of the legs. The outer third 
of each body-hair is yellowish white, and the 
remainder is very light brown. On the shoul- 
ders the under-fur shades quickly into dark 
brown, in the form of a cross. Very often the 
outer and main color of a Silver-tip Grizzly is 
so very light that the general appearance of 
the animal is really a shiny, yellowish white. 
Nature has been very kind to the Grizzly in 
regard to both the quantity and the quality 
of his hair. A specimen that now lies before 
me has thick hair, three and one-half inches 
in length ; and, while the outer third of it is 
stiff and straight, in order to shed rain and 
sleet, the two-thirds nearest the body is fine, 
soft, and woolly, for the express puqjose of 
keeping "Old Ephraim" warm and comfortable 
in, say, a temperature of forty degrees below 

zero. Does any one think for a moment that 
such careful provision for a wild animal's needs 
came about by mere chance, or by the efforts 
of the animal himself to grow such curious hair? 
I do not, at all events. 

In former times, the Grizzly Bear inhabited 
nearly every range of mountains in the West 
and Northwest, and was the reigning monarch 
throughout a vast region well stocked with big 
game. He was bold, aggressive, and in places 
uncomfortably numerous. He not only pos- 
sessed the mountains, but in many places, no- 
tably in Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado, he 
often left the shelter of the foot-hills and boldly 
sallied forth upon the open prairie to dig roots 
or pick berries for his dinner. 

General Marcy had several very novel and 
also very exciting experiences in chasing Griz- 
zlies on horseback in Wyoming. Once he pur- 
sued a bear, and, by skilful strategy, actually 
drove it to his advancing column of soldiers, 
one of whom rode out and shot it. On an- 
other occasion he chased a lean Grizzly for 
several miles, and it was all he could do to 
keep up with it on a swift horse. The gen- 
eral declared that a man could not have run 
half as fast as did that bear. 

Although the Grizzly has been entirely ex- 
terminated in many localities, and his numbers 
greatly reduced everywhere else, he still holds 

SSr^fF?IT. 5_lpjjh_ e _ s -- .;S --"♦"Ik 


forth in the wilder mountain regions of Mon- 
tana, Wyoming, Idaho, Colorado, California, 
Oregon, and Nevada. Beyond the United 

i8 94 : 



States he is found in increasing numbers 
northward throughout the British possessions, 
and all over Alaska up to about 69 north 
latitude. In Alaska the Grizzly attains great 
size, and some measurements of skins have 
been recorded that are 
beyond belief. Mr. L. 
M. Turner, Smithson- 
ian collector, mentions 
a skin taken near the 
mouth of the Yukon as 
being the largest skin 
of a wild beast that he 
ever saw. 

The Grizzly is not 
going to be extermin- 
ated in a hurry. In 
1 886 we found his fresh 
tracks quite plentiful as 
far east as the lower 
Musselshell River 

(longitude 108 west), 
and also saw the fresh- 
ly picked bones of 
three beef-steers that 
Ephraim had killed 
and eaten. 

And it was right 
there, also, that for the 
first time in my life I 
left a trail because I 
was afraid to follow it 
farther. While hunt- 
ing elk all alone in 
ground that was loose 
and perfectly bare, 
save for a clumpy 
growth of stunted 
cedar and juniper, I 
saw the fresh tracks 
of a huge Grizzly. 
The clean-cut print of 
his hind foot meas- 

tracks, and joined those of my bear. They 
were not nearly so large as the first set, but for 
all that it would have been fairer to me if the 
two assistant Grizzlies had stayed away. As 
the brush grew denser the perspiration came 


ured exactly 9 by 5^ 

inches (a quarter of an inch shorter than St. 

Nicholas, and two-thirds the width). I said 

to myself, " Here, at last, is my long-lost 

Grizzly ! " and I joyously hied me along his 


Presently up came two more sets of Grizzly 

out upon me more plentifully, and if my partner 
had only been with me, I would willingly have 
shared with him the prospective glory of bag- 
ging three Grizzlies in one day. But I was 
obliged to take my chances by myself. 

I skulked silently along the trail for an hour, 


peering, listening, sniffing the air (my friend Grizzlies], "stayed by me while I worked, and followed 

Huffman assures me from experience it is me when l hunted - Tne kind a »d gentle disposition 

sometimes possible to smell a Grizzly in brushy she h f h .T* '° "^ ™ Washin § ton Territory im- 

. . / . , . . , . , , proved with time and care, and she was now as faithful 

ground before seeing him), hunting for those and devoted> T was going t0 say> as it was possible for 

bears, but actually atraul of finding them, any animal to be; but, in making this assertion, my no- 

Finally the trail jumped down into the head ''' e Californian Grizzly, Ben Franklin, that most excel- 

of a deep and dark ravine that was steep-sided lent of a11 beasts > must be excepted. But for Ben, the 

and Choked with brush, a perfect man-trap, in |" sto T of whose magnanimous traits will adorn the fol- 

. . , , ' \ , . ' lowing pages, the ladv could truly be pronounced second 

fact. And right there I drew the line, and to none of all the creatures over which the Creator ap- 

quit the trail, for that day. The next morning pointed man to be the lord and master, 
my partner and I took it up at that point, 

followed it through that ravine and for miles Lady Washington was so docile and good- 

beyond, until it struck some hard ground cov- natured that she submitted, " with willingness, 

ered with pine-needles and was lost. and even docility," to being used as a pack 

In size the Grizzly Bear is second only to animal, in carrying dead game, blankets, or 
the polar bear. When three days old his total other camp equipage up to a weight of two 
length is about 9^ inches, his weight 1 pound hundred pounds. She was also taught to 
2 ounces, and his body, says Mr. Charles work in harness and pull, through the snow, 
Dury, is of a dusky flesh tint, thickly covered a sled loaded with deer-meat. More than 
with short, stiff hair of a dirty white color, with once Adams was so pinched by cold he was 
a broad line of ash-colored hair along the back, glad to sleep against the Grizzly's warm body. 
The nose, ears, and soles of the feet are of a The weight of the Grizzly Bear is chiefly a 
bright pink color, and the eyes are tightly matter of estimate and guesswork. Platform- 
closed. The cubs are usually two in number, scales are not plentiful in the mountains where 
but often three, and are born in January. At Grizzlies grow big, and nearly all the weight- 
six months old the cub is every inch a Grizzly figures thus far recorded are so suspiciously 
Bear, and makes a most frolicsome, interesting, " round " as to suggest more calculation than 
and usually good-natured pet. We had one in cold steelyards. Still, I have very great re- 
our Smithsonian " Zoo " to which I was sin- spect for the estimates of men accustomed to 
cerely attached. A cinnamon cub of the same mountaineering, for they are taught by hard 
age, and on which I had lavished no end of experience how much weight there is in every 
kind attentions, was always nervous, suspicious, hundred pounds. Mr. Theodore Roosevelt 
and eager to snap any one who came within estimated the weight of his largest Grizzly, 
reach. But the Silver-tip was different. He killed in the Big Horn Mountains, Wyoming, 
was playful, fond of attention, and docile; and at about 1200 pounds, and declares " he was 
long after he was big enough to have killed a a good deal heavier than any of our horses," 
man with one blow of his paw, Keeper Weeden and " fat as a prize hog." Colonel Picket, of 
used to creep into his cage to fix his bath-tub Meteetse, Wyoming, has killed many Grizzlies, 
without receiving the slightest intimation of and Mr. Archibald Rogers states, in Scribnei's 
displeasure. Magazine, that his largest bear weighed 800 

Children of an older generation will sure- pounds. A good-sized Grizzly killed in the 

ly remember "Grizzly Adams" and his big Yellowstone Park in 1890 weighed 600 pounds, 

shaggy pets from the Sierra Nevadas, " Lady but Mr. Rogers expresses the opinion that the 

Washington " and " Ben Franklin." As a average weight of most specimens that one will 

side-light on the temper and intelligence of get in the Rocky Mountains will be under 500 

the Grizzly Bear, the following from the pen pounds. But this I believe is due to the fact 

of the old hunter is interesting : that in these days of much hunting, a Grizzly 

Lady Washington was now a constant companion of * S n0t all ° Wed t0 live lon § e " 0U g h t0 § et enOT " 

all my little excursions. She accompanied me to the niously large, as formerly he might do. 

scenes of my labors " [building log traps to catch more I once saw in the possession of Mr. F. S. 


Webster the skin of a Californian Grizzly that 
was a wonder to behold. I made an outline 
of it, measured it, and put the dimensions upon 
it, as shown in the diagram on page 900. 

This skin was afterward made into a floor 
rug, and sold for six hundred dollars to a well- 
known gentleman living in New York. 

The habits of the Grizzly are very similar to 
those of the black bear, 
already described, but, 
being more powerful, 
he is more destructive 
to game and cattle than 
the latter species. In the 
cattle-growing States 
bordering the Rocky 
Mountains, so many 
cattle are killed by Griz- 
zlies that the States pay 
a bounty of from twelve 
to fifteen dollars on 
every Grizzly Bear de- 
stroyed. The Grizzly 
eats carrion whenever 
opportunity offers it, 
and often robs the elk- 
hunter of his hard-earn- 
ed quarry. He is fond 
of berries of all kinds, 
nuts, fruit, grubs, and 
juicy roots of many 
kinds. In some re- 
spects he feeds like a 
hog, rooting and dig- 
ging up the ground, 
tearing open rotten logs 
and stumps, and over- 
turning stones. 

Mr. A. J. Purcell, 
who has been in at the death of nearly forty 
bears in California, informs me that Grizzlies 
have been killed on the sea-shore, near the 
mouth of the Klamath River, in that State, 
while feeding on dead whales. In Mendocino 
County the first thing the bears eat in the 
spring, after they leave their dens, are wild 
clover and wild-pea vines. At that time the 
soles of their feet are soft and tender, and 
their claws are long and sharp from disuse. 
The hunters of that region distinguish five 


(alleged) species and varieties of bears in 
California, as follows : Grizzly, black, brown, 
cinnamon, and " chemecial," the last so named 
from a kind of brush that grows thickly there, 
and is the favorite haunt of a bear which hunt- 
ers imagine is different from the rest. Mr. Pur- 
cell has this to say regarding the size of the 
Californian Grizzly : 

9 JiC^!^^sa>^l 


The largest bear ever killed in California was one 
killed in Mendocino County, known as old Reel-foot, 
who was said to have weighed 2250 pounds. 

Many a hunter owes his life to the fact that 
the Grizzly Bear cannot climb trees. 

is the least known of all 
our American bears, and 
its proper description 
and life history cannot be written by me. All 
that we know about it is, that in the far North- 
west, in the bleak and inhospitable Barren 

(Ur'sus Rich-ard-son'i) 



Grounds of Alaska and the Northwest Territory, 
as far north as 69 , there lives a bear which in 
form and size very closely resembles the silver- 
tip grizzly, but is so very light-colored that the 
name " Yellow Bear " would be suitable to it. 
Says Mr. E. W. Nelson, the Alaskan explorer: 

The half-dozen skins which came under my notice 
were all very heavily furred, and of a dingy yellowish, 
in some cases approaching a whitish. The fur was dense 
and matted in all, and very much heavier than on the 
other bears taken at the same time and place. The skins 
were not large, appearing to average about the size of a 
well-grown black bear. 

They all came from the upper Yukon River, 
above the mouth of the Tanana River. 
Whether the Barren-Ground Bear is really a 
different species from the grizzly of the Rocky 
Mountains remains to be seen ; but I doubt it 
very much indeed. 

CINNAMON BEAR. LaSt ° f a11 We COme t0 the 
(UrSus A-,nc,-i-canus ClNNAMON BEAR, alsO Called 

cin-na-mdmum.) [ n Alaska the Red Bear. 
This animal enjoys the distinction of being the 
only creature in North America about which 
nothing can be said as to his place in nature 
without fear of contradiction. The great Au- 
dubon, and his co-laborer, Bachman, classified 
it as a subspecies of the black bear; but Pro- 
fessor Baird declined to accord it even that 
small honor. Our later authorities on quadru- 
peds mostly follow Professor Baird in refusing 
to accept it as a distinct subspecies, and this 
affords a good illustration of the queer ways 
of the really scientific workers. A Cinnamon 
Bear that can be distinguished nearly a quarter 
of a mile distant by his color is not considered 
a distinct form, because his skull happens to be 
like that of the black bear ; but scores of other 
mammals, whose sole difference is found in the 
shape of one jaw-tooth, or one small bone, are 
ranked as distinct species, although no man liv- 
ing can detect any external differences, even 
with a microscope. 

To me, therefore, the Cinnamon Bear is now 
and always will be a distinct and clearly de- 
fined subspecies, standing as a mysterious con- 
necting-link and a sort of living conundrum 

between the black bear and the grizzly. His 
home is where both the other species are found, 
and he is not found elsewhere, nor with either 
species alone. In the United States he most 
nearly resembles the black bear, and in several 
instances a black and a Cinnamon have been 
found in the same family of cubs ! In Alaska 
the Cinnamon comes nearest to the grizzly, 
both in size and color variations. The texture 
and quantity of his hair is always more like 
the coat of the grizzly, but his skull is al- 
ways more like that of the black bear. His 
color is chestnut- or cinnamon-brown, but 
sometimes dirty yellow. In temper he is worse 
than either of the other species, being more ir- 
ritable, vicious, and revengeful. Sometimes he 
can climb trees, and then again he cannot. In 
the United States his size corresponds closely 
to that of the black bear, but in Alaska it 
approaches nearest to the grizzly. 

Regarding the Cinnamon Bear of Alaska, 
and its close resemblance to the grizzly, Mr. 
Nelson has this to say : 

Wherever the Red Bear occurs in Alaska there is 
found also a bear of about the same size, but colored and 
marked precisely like the "Silver-Tipped Grizzly" of 
the Central Rocky Mountain region of the United States. 
The Grizzlies and the Red Bears of the Yukon Valley 
offer an interminable amount of individual variation in 
color. The skins intergrade so that I have frequently 
thought they formed but extremes of the same species. 
The Red Bear varies from light rufus to a dark chestnut 
and reddish- or cinnamon-brown. . . . Skins of both the 
Red and Grizzly Bear average very much larger than 
those of the Black Bear. 

Both the grizzly and Cinnamon bears hiber- 
nate in winter, and sometimes do so even in 
captivity. I once made the acquaintance of a 
Cinnamon Bear owned by Mr. O. V. Davis, of 
Mandan, Dakota, which " holed up " every 
fall, in a hole he dug for himself in a lot near 
the depot. In 1888 he went into his hole on 
December 5, and remained, absolutely with- 
out food or drink, until March 17, when he 
came out in good order. Unlike most Cinna- 
mon Bears, he was wonderfully good-natured 
and playful, and was scarcely ever known to 
get angry. 

ini.iiniiiiiiii'-:iiiiiiiiu T i" T i-i.',v „ l i':iTTl|Un TT r"' , f'iini l iiiii, l ii.,i, l iuiiiJ|7i«iiiMiiiiiiii/iiii<""iiiu'iiW'i im<wwmunw'n<uiimmw<"^ 

mk\i n"M<Mii"i-'i([iii 

By D. O. S. Lowell. 

They were a multitude in number more 

Than with ten tongues, and with ten mouths, each mouth 

Made vocal with a trumpet's throat of brass 

I might declare, unless the Olympian nine, 

Jove's daughters, could the chronicle themselves 

Indite. . . . — Camper's Translation of the Iliad, 

The people of ancient Greece used to say 
that Zeus (Jove or Jupiter) and Mnemosyne 
(Memory) had nine daughters. In very old 
times these daughters were worshiped as god- 
desses of poetry and song, under the name of 
Muses ; later, they were spoken of as presiding ture many people began to disbelieve in the 
over all literature, art, and science. They had old-time gods ; but the poets continued to keep 
an altar in the Academy at Athens ; the Thes- up the custom of invoking the Muses, notwith- 
pians held a yearly festival in their honor, with standing. Even in modern times, the great 
prizes for musicians ; and at Rome two temples English poet Milton breathes this prayer at 
were dedicated to them. the beginning of his " Paradise Lost " : 

The old Greek and Roman poets believed 
that the Muses could enable them to write with 
vigor and grace, and they never began any 

Muse of whom he claimed to be scarcely more 
than the mouthpiece. Thus Homer begins his 
Sing, O goddess,* the destructive wrath of Achilles ; 

the opening lines of the " Odyssey " are : 

O Muse, sing to me of the man full of resources; 

and Vergil, after a seven-line introduction to 
his "^Eneid," utters an invocation beginning: 
Muse, recount to me the causes, etc. 
In the later days of Greek and Roman litera- 

Of man's first disobedience 
Sing, Heavenly Muse, . . . 

important poem without a prayer to some one 
or more of the Nine. This prayer formed a 
part of the poem itself, and in it the author 
gave the credit of 

Vol. XXI.- 

... I thence 
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song. 

Thus it happens that in order to understand 
all his thoughts to the much of the literature of our own times, we 
* Calliope, the muse of epic poetry. 
114. 9°s 




need to know the story of these Daughters of 

They were born, according to Greek mythol- 
ogy, in Pieria, near the summit of Mount Olym- 
pus, the home of the gods. From their birth 
they were wonderfully gifted in music and song, 
and often furnished entertainment at the ban- 
quets of the immortals. Pierus, the king of a 
neighboring country, had nine daughters who 
were good singers, too, — at least in their own 
opinion ; so they challenged the Muses to com- 
pete with them. The daughters of Zeus accepted, 
and the contest took place upon Mount Helicon. 

You can guess the result, for mortals may 
not strive with gods. While the challengers 
sang, the heavens grew dark, as though they 
had " tried the earth, if it were in tune," and 
heard only a sullen discord. At length the 
mortal music ceased, and the celestial Nine 
began. At once the sun burst through the 
murky clouds, the stars stopped in their 
courses, and the rivers paused between their 
banks ; at the same time Mount Helicon, on 
which the Muses often dwelt, swelled so proudly 
toward the sky that Poseidon (Neptune) ordered 

the winged horse Pegasus to strike it with his 
hoof. The command was obeyed ; the mountain 
no longer rose heavenward, but from the hoof- 
print gushed forth Hippocrene (Horse-foun- 
tain), whose waters gave poetic inspiration to 
all who drank thereof. The poor vanquished 
maidens were then punished for their presump- 
tion by being changed into magpies. 

The stories which the ancients told concern- 
ing the Muses varied a great deal. There was 
disagreement concerning their number, their 
names, their parents, the mountain on which 
they lived, the symbols by which they were 
known, and the attitudes in which they should 




be represented. I shall attempt to tell you, 
however, only the things which were most 
widely believed concerning them. 
When Pope said, 

A little learning is a dangerous thing; 
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring, 

he followed the story which says they lived on 
Mount Olympus. When the poet Gray wrote, 
in describing the Progress of Poesy, 

From Helicon's harmonious springs 

A thousand rills their mazy progress take, 

he meant to say, that poetry began in the home 
of the Muses on Mount Helicon, and spread 
over the whole earth. Wordsworth says of one 
man, who was a poet : 

Nor did he leave 
Those laureat wreaths ungathered which the Nymphs 
Twine on the top of Pindus ; 


] m 

and the same writer says of another poet : 

Not a covert path 
Leads to the dear Parnassian forest's shade, 
That might from him be hidden. 

Thus we see that four dwelling-places of the 
Muses were Mounts Olympus, Helicon, Pindus, 
and Parnassus. It will be well to remember 

A Greek writer, Lucian, says that when Herod- 
otus, the " Father of History," read his famous 
work to the multitudes who had assembled to see 
the Olympic games his hearers were so delighted 
that they at once named the nine books after 
the nine Muses. Some doubt the truth of the 
story, but however that may be, it is certain 
that even to this very day the books of Herod- 
otus are called Clio, Euterpe, Thalia, Melpom- 
ene, Terpsichore, Erato, Polymnia, Urania, and 
Calliope, instead of being numbered. 

Clio (glory) is an appropriate name for the 
first book, as she was said to preside over 
history ; in painting or sculpture she is usually 




represented with an open roll 
in her hand. 

Euterpe (giver of pleasure) 
was the Muse of Lyric Poetry, 
or that which is expressive of 
the poet's own thought or feel- 
ing and is well adapted to 
song. She is usually repre- 
sented with the double flute. 

Thalia (the blooming one) 
represented the merry side of 
life; she was the Muse of 
Comedy, or dramatic com- 
position in which mirth was 
the leading feature. Her em- 
blems were a comic mask, of- 
ten carried in one hand, a crook or staff, and 
usually a wreath of ivy encircling her head. 

Melpomene (the singing one) represented the 
stem and gloomy side of life ; she was the 
Muse of Tragedy, or dramatic composition in 



i-' i 

which the leading characters usually meet death 
by violence. Her symbols were a mask expres- 
sive of horror or agony, a garland of vine leaves, 
the club of Hercules, and buskins, actor's sandals. 
The last had thick soles, in order to make the 
wearer appear tall and dignified on the stage. 

Terpsichore (delighting in dance) is, perhaps, 
of all the Muses, most familiar to the general 
reader. She had charge of the Choral Song 
and Dance. She is commonly represented as 
indulging in her favorite pastime. In one hand 
she carries a seven-stringed lyre, the chords of 
which she strikes with a plectrum, or piece of 
ivory, bone, or shell. 

Erato (amorous) comes next with a nine- 
stringed harp and plectrum. Sometimes she 
was merry, sometimes sad, — of changeful mood, 




as lovers are; for Erato was the patron ^^z 
goddess of Passionate Poetry and of Love Ǥ??? 

Polymnia (rich in song) often has no 
symbol, but carries her finger to her lips, and 
looks up with thoughtful gaze. She was 
the Muse of Hymns and Sacred Songs. 

Urania (heaven) was the Muse of Astro- 
nomy. She carries a globe in one hand, 
and a wand in the other. 

Calliope (beautiful voice), though last in 
order was first in importance. She was 
the mother of Orpheus, the wonderful 
musician who traveled with the Argonauts 
in Jason's Quest. Her province was Epic 
Poetry, like the " Iliad" of Homer, or the 
"^Eneid" of Vergil. She is commonly 



shown with a stylus or metal pen, and tablets, 
and sometimes in the act of writing. 

The Muses are at times represented with 
feathers upon their heads — trophies won by 
them when they vanquished the Sirens in a 
musical contest. 

If you will remember the pictures and traits 
of these Daughters of Zeus, you will never be 

1 'iiiti 7*m-m 

at a loss when in your reading you come upon 
the names of any of the "tuneful Nine." 




,.Xi >;/;A't^ 

T.-s <s 

By Oliver Herford. 

The Princess' hair hath golden sheen, 

And her cheek is lily-pale; 
But none may look in her eyes, I ween, 

And live to tell the tale. 

For a cruel spell on the Princess lies, 

And whoso will may try 
His fate, and look into her eyes; 

But whoso looks must die. 

From out the south, and eke the north, 
And from the east and west, 

Full many a gallant knight rides forth, 
Upon the fatal quest. 

The miller's son is a dusty youth, 
And dusty curls hath he. 

Quoth he, " I '11 go myself, forsooth, 
And set this Princess free." 

The miller's son he 
hath no spear 
Nor sword nor coat 
of mail, 
But an honest heart 
that knows not fear 
Oft wins when swords 
may fail. 

For a cruel spell on the Princess 

No mortal can undo 
Till one shall look into her eyes 

And tell their color true. 

And some do vow her eyes are green, 
And some that they are black; 

And many a knight rides forth, I ween, 
But never a one rides back. 


9 II 

The miller's son at the portal knocks, 

At the Princess' feet he bends, 
And he tosses aside his floury locks 

And a floury cloud ascends. 

The Princess' face in a mist of white 

Is veiled as with a veil, 
And her eyes are dimmed of their deadly light, 

And the miller doth not quail. 

The Princess' hair hath golden sheen, 

Her cheek is red, red rose, 
And her eyes ? 

Go ask the Prince — 
I mean 
The miller's son — he knows. 




By Charles F. Lummis. 

WAY to the southeast of 
the Manzano Mountains, 
two days' journey from 
the Pueblo town, Isleta, 
are the shallow salt 
lakes. Perhaps you 
would like to know 
•why those lakes 
are salt now — for 
my Indian neigh- 
bors say that once 
they were fresh and full of fish, and that the 
deer and buffalo came from all the country 
round to drink there. Here is the story as 
it is believed by the Tee-Wahn, and as it was 
related to me by one of them. 

Once there was still a village east of the 
Eagle-Feather (Manzano) Mountains, and in it 
lived a famous hunter. One day, going out on 
the plains to the east, he stalked a herd of ante- 
lopes, and wounded one with his arrows. It 
fled eastward, while the herd went south; and 
the hunter began to trail it. Soon he came 
to the largest lake, into which the trail led. 
As he stood on the bank, wondering what to 
do, a fish thrust its head from the water and 

" Friend Hunter, you are on dangerous 
ground ! " and off it went swimming. Before 

the Hunter could recover from his surprise, a 
Lake- Man came up out of the water and said : 

" How is it that you are here, where no hu- 
man ever came ? " 

The Hunter told his story, and the Lake-Man 
invited him to come in. When he had entered 
the lake, he came to a house with doors to the 
east, north, south, and west, and a trap-door in 
the roof, with a ladder ; and by the ladder door 
they entered. In their talk together the Lake- 
Man learned that the Hunter had a wife and 
little son at home. 

" If that is so," said he, " why do you not 
come and live with me ? I am here alone, and 
have plenty of other food, but I am no hunter. 
We could live very well here together." And 
opening doors on four sides of the room, he 
showed the Hunter four other huge rooms, all 
piled from floor to ceiling with corn and wheat 
and dried squash and the like. 

" That is a very good offer," said the aston- 
ished Hunter. " I will come again in four days; 
and if my Cacique will let me, I will bring my 
family and stay." 

So the Hunter went home, killing an antelope 
on the way, and told his wife all. She thought 
very well of the offer ; and he went to ask 
permission of the Cacique. The Cacique de- 
murred, for this was the best hunter in all the 


pueblos (and all hunters give the Cacique a part 
of their game for his support) ; but at last he 
consented and gave the Hunter his blessing. 

So on the fourth day the Hunter and his wife 
and little boy came to the lake with all their 
property. The Lake-Man met them cordially, 
and gave the house and all its contents into the 
charge of the woman (as is the custom among 
all Pueblo Indians). 

Some time passed very pleasantly, the Hunter 
going out daily and bringing back great quan- 
tities of game. At last the Lake-Man, who was 
of an evil heart, pretended to show the Hunter 
something in the East room ; and pushing him 
in, locked the great door and left him there 
to starve — for the room was full of the bones 
of men whom he had already entrapped in 
the same way. 

The boy was now big enough to use his bow 
and arrows so well that he brought home many 
rabbits; and the witch-hearted Lake-Man be- 
gan to plot to get him too out of the way. 

So one morning when the boy was about to 
start for a hunt, he heard his mother groaning as 
if about to die ; and the Lake-Man said to him : 

" My boy, your mother has a terrible pain, 
and the only thing that will cure her is some 
ice from T'hoor-p'ah-whee-ai [Lake of the 
Sun], the lake from which the sun rises." 

" Then," said the boy, straightway, " if that 
is so, I will take the heart of a man [that is, be 
brave], and go and get the ice for my little 
mother." And away he started toward the 
unknown east. 

Far out over the endless brown plains he 
trudged bravely, -until at last he came to the 
house of Shee-choo-hlee-oh-oo, the Old-Wo- 
man-Mole, who was there all alone — for her 
husband had gone to hunt. They were dread- 
fully poor, and the house was almost falling 
down, and the poor, wrinkled Old-Woman- 
Mole sat huddled in the corner by the fire- 
place, trying to keep warm by a few dying 
coals. But when the boy knocked, she rose 
and welcomed him kindly and gave him all 
there was in the house to eat — a wee bowl of 
soup with a patched-up snowbird in it. The 
boy was very hungry, and picking up the snow- 
bird bit a big piece out of it. 

" Oh, my child ! " cried the old woman, be- 
Vol. XXI.— 115. 


ginning to weep. " You have ruined me ! For 
my husband trapped that bird these many 
years ago, but we could never get another; 
and that is all we have had to eat ever since. 
So we never bit it, but cooked it over and 
over and drank the broth. And now not even 
that is left " — and she wept bitterly. 

" Nay, Grandmother Mole, do not worry," 
said the boy. " Have you any long hair ? " 
for he saw many snowbirds lighting near by. 

" No, my child," said the old woman sadly. 
" There is no other living animal here, and you 
are the first human that ever came here." 

But the boy pulled out some of his own long 
hair and made snares, and soon caught many 
birds. Then the Old-Woman-Mole was full of 
joy ; and having learned his errand, she said : 

" My son, fear not, for I will be the one that 
shall help you. When you come into the house 
of the Trues, they will tempt you with a seat ; 
but you must sit down only on what you have, 
your blanket and moccasins. Then they will 
try you with many tests of your courage ; but 
I will help you to bear them." 

Then she gave him her blessing, and the boy 
started away to the east. At last, after a wear}-, 
weary way, he came so near the Sun Lake that 
the guard of the Medicine House of the Trues 
saw him coming, and went in to report. 

" Let him be brought in," said the Trues ; 
and the guard took the boy in and in through 
eight rooms, until he stood in the presence of 
all the gods, in a vast room. There were all 
the gods of the East, whose color is white, 
and the blue gods of the North, the yellow 
gods of the West, the red gods of the South, 
all in human shape. Beyond their seats were 
all the sacred animals — the buffalo, the bear, 
the eagle, the badger, the mountain-lion, the 
rattlesnake, and all the others. 

Then the Trues bade the boy sit down, and 
offered him a white mania (robe) for a seat ; 
but he declined respectfully, saying that he had 
been taught, when in the presence of his elders, 
to sit on nothing save what he brought, and he 
sat upon his blanket and moccasins. When he 
had told his story, the Trues, to try him, put 
him into the room of the East with the bear 
and the lion ; and the savage animals came 
forward and breathed on him, but would not 




hurt him. Then they put him into the room 
of the North, with the eagle and the hawk; 
then into the room of the West, with the 
snakes ; and lastly, into the room of the South, 
where were the Apaches and all the other 


human enemies of his people. And from each 
room he came forth unscratched. 

" Surely," said the Trues, " this is our son ! 
But once more we will try him." 

They had a great pile of logs built up ("cob- 
house" fashion), and the space between filled 
with pine-knots. Then the guard of the Trues 

set the boy on the top of the pile and set fire 
to the pine-knots. 

But in the morning, when the guard went 
out, there was the boy unharmed and saying: 
" Tell the Trues that I am cold, and that I 
would like more fire." 

Then he was brought again 
before the Trues, who said: 
" Son, you have proved your- 
self a true believer, and now 
you shall have w : hat you seek." 
So the sacred ice was given 
him, and he started homeward 
— stopping on the way only to 
thank the Old-Woman-Mole, 
to whose aid he owed all his 

When the wicked Lake- Man 
saw the boy coming, he was 
very angry, for he had never 
expected him to return from 
that dangerous mission. But 
he deceived the boy and the wo- 
man; and in a few days made 
a similar excuse to send the boy 
to the gods of the South after 
more ice for his mother. 

The boy started off as brave- 
ly as before. When he had 
traveled a great way to the 
south, he came to a drying 
lake ; and there, dying in the 
mud, was a little fish. 

" Ah-boo [poor thing], little 
fish," said the boy ; and pick- 
ing it up, he put it in his gourd 
canteen of water. After a while 
he came to a good lake ; and as 
he sat down to eat his lunch the 
fish in his gourd said : 

" Friend Boy, let me swim 
while you eat, for I love the 

So he put the fish in the lake; and when he 
was ready to go on, the fish came to him, and 
he put it back in his gourd. At three lakes 
he let the fish swim while he ate; and each 
time the fish came back to him. But beyond 
the third lake began a great forest which 
stretched clear across the world, and was so 



thick with thorns and brush that no man could 
pass it. But as the boy was wondering what 
he should do, the tiny fish changed itself into a 
great fish-animal, with a skin as hard as rock ; 
and bidding the boy mount upon its back, it 
went plowing through the forest, breaking 
down big trees like stubble, and bringing him 
through to the other side without a scratch. 

" Now, Friend Boy," said the fish-animal, 
" you saved my life, and I will be the one that 
shall help you. When you come to the house 
of the Trues, they will try you as they did in 
the East. And when you have proved your- 
self, the Cacique will bring you his three daugh- 
ters, from whom to choose you a wife. The 
two oldest are very beautiful, and the youngest 
is not; but you ought to choose her, for beauty 
does not always reach to the heart." 

The boy thanked his fish-friend and went on, 
until at last he came to the house of the Trues 
of the South. There they tried him with many 
tests of his courage, just as the Trues of the 
East had done, but he proved himself a man, 
and they gave him the ice. Then the Cacique 
brought his three daughters, and said : 

" Son, you are now old enough to have a wife 
[for it must be remembered that all these travels 
had taken many years], and I see that you are 
a true man who will do all for his mother. 
Choose, therefore, one of my daughters." 

The boy looked at the three girls ; and truly 
the oldest were very lovely. But he remem- 
bered the words of his fish-friend and said : 

" Let the youngest be my wife." 

Then the Cacique was pleased, for he loved 
this daughter more than both the others. And 
the boy and the Cacique's daughter were mar- 
ried and started homeward, carrying the ice 
and many presents. 

When they came to the great forest, there 
was the fish-animal waiting for them, and tak- 
ing both on his back he carried them safely 
through. At the first lake he bade them good- 
by and blessed them, and they trudged on alone. 

At last they came in sight of the big lake, 
and over it were great clouds, with the forked 
lightning leaping forth. AVhile they were yet 
far off, they could see the wicked Lake-Man 
sitting at the top of his ladder, watching to see 
if the boy would return, and even while they 

looked they saw the lightning of the Trues 
strike him and tear him to shreds. 

When they came to the lake the boy found 
his mother weeping for him as dead. And 
taking his wife and his mother, — but none of 


the things of the Lake-Man, for those were 
bewitched, — the boy came out upon the shore. 
There he stood and prayed to the Trues that 
the lake might be accursed forever ; and they 
heard his prayer, for from that day its waters 
turned salt, and no living thing has drunk 


By George Ethelbert Walsh. 

Thousands of people weekly visit the mena- 
gerie in Central Park to look at the wild animals 
confined in the numerous iron cages, fences, 
and wooden houses. The characteristics of 
many of these animals are such as to interest 
visitors in them, and the history of their ac- 
complishments is related by the keepers with 
great enthusiasm. One of the most intelligent 
animals that was ever in the menagerie was 
" Crowley," the chimpanzee, and he was a 
great favorite with the public, even small boys 
and girls who did not know what a "zoo" was 
being familiar with his name. The poor fellow 
died a few years after leaving his home in Li- 
beria, but not until after he had learned to eat 
with a knife and fork, use a napkin, bow to 
people, and show numerous other signs of civili- 
zation. A great rivalry was felt between 
Crowley and his cousin in the London Zoo ; 
and but for the former's untimely death, he 
would have shown higher qualities of intelli- 
gence than the London chimpanzee. It is 
reported now, however, that the latter is far 
in advance of what Crowley was at his death, 
one of his greatest accomplishments being to 
count from one to fifteen, and when asked to 
pick up a certain number of stones within this 
limit he does it readily. 

The most dangerous and ferocious animal in 
the Central Park Zoo was " Tip," the large ele- 
phant who was put to death in May of this 
year. He is said to have killed eight keepers 
and wounded several others. This man-killing 
elephant was the least intelligent of the three 
kept at the menagerie ; or, at least, his disposi- 
tion was such that he "refused to exhibit his 
intelligence. While the other elephants would 
ring a bell, wave a fan, stand on their hind 
legs, and do other queer tricks, Tip gloomily 
refused to do anything of the sort. Once or 
twice he broke the huge chain that encircled 
his body, and made a mad dash at his keeper. 

He was quiet and morose most of the time, but 
there was no trusting his mood. He was 
treacherous and dangerous ; this fact alone 
made him quite a curiosity. 

The monkeys probably give the most real 
amusement to the visitors, and they represent 
all ages, sizes, and dispositions. Occasionally 
one escapes from the cage, and the pursuit that 
follows is joined in by hundreds of visitors who 
happen to be in the park. A capturing-bag is 
used to corner the little fellows when out of the 
cage, and this is thrown over their heads and 
the mouth securely tied. Quite a number of 
escapes from the cages have occurred at differ- 
ent times, and the excitement that has prevailed 
in the park for a few hours has been very 
intense. When some of the larger animals 
escape, the visitors are not so ready to join 
in the chase. Most of them get away from the 
scene as quickly as possible ; but, no matter 
how ferocious the escaped animal is, the keepers 
fearlessly join in the pursuit until the creature 
is captured. 

Not a great while ago a huge python snake 
escaped from his cage, and crawled away into 
some obscure place in the park. As soon as 
the discovery was made a general alarm was 
given, and every visitor deserted the vicinity of 
the menagerie, while the keepers started out in 
search for the monster. For six months no- 
thing was heard or seen of the snake, although 
floors were torn up, and every nook in the park 
was examined. The python had eaten a hearty 
meal before his escape, but at the end of the 
six months hunger forced him from his hiding- 
place, and he was discovered one day by the 
watchman. The brave man threw his coat over 
the snake's head, and clung to his neck until 
help came in reply to his loud shouts. The 
huge reptile had crawled to the roof of the 
snake-house, and right under this he had found 
a snug hiding-place for six months. 

Sun bear >n tKe cherry free. 

egging a monkey. 

A large alligator escapes. 




Four or five years ago a large alligator es- 
caped from its pen, and was discovered by a 
park policeman after it had made a vicious 
snap at his legs. The animal was " bagged " 
by the keepers only after a desperate struggle. 

One of the large sun-bears pried the bars 
of his cage apart one night, and crawled 
through the opening thus made. A neighbor- 
ing cherry-tree attracted his attention, and he 
spent the early morning in stuffing himself with 
the delicious fruit. When found, the brute 
was so gorged with food that the keepers had 
very little difficulty in capturing him. 

Many other lesser escapes from the cages 
have happened, and incidents in the menagerie 
similar to these occur very often. 

A fierce fight recently occurred between a 
fine Kerry bull and an Indian bull. The two 
were tied to separate stakes, and before the 
fight they had been bellowing loudly for several 
hours. Finally the Kerry bull managed to 
break his rope, and, making a dash at his enemy, 
knocked him over. While he was rolling in the 
dirt the savage animal gored the Indian bull in 

such a way that his life was despaired of for 
several days. 

Once or twice the tigers have broken through 
their cages into those occupied by the lions, 
and a short, fierce battle occurred. 

The flesh-eaters are not so fierce in the cages 
as they are in wild life, and after they have 
been confined for a few months they grow quite 
contented and docile. They are fed only once 
a day, and one day out of each week they are 
deprived of all food. This does not prove any 
great trial to them, as in the wild state they 
often go without anything to eat for several 
days, and it improves their health and wards 
off possible sickness. They are fed with meat 
at each meal, and just before the time for feed- 
ing they begin to get restless and savage, 
walking and roaring about their cages with 
impatience. Sunday is the day when they are 
not fed. In their own cages they frequently 
show their savage natures, and sometimes en- 
gage in quarrels that would result fatally if they 
were not speedily separated, or prodded with 
the keeper's iron hook. 


By Laura B. Hall. 

Everyone knows that during the Civil War 
men were drafted for the army, both North and 
South ; but all may not know that in the Revo- 
lutionary War, at least in some parts of the 
country, horses were drafted as well as men. 

Think what his horse was to the isolated 
New England farmer of those early days ! No 
steamcars or steamboats then carried him — or 
anybody — anywhere ; even the lumbering old 
stage-coach had not yet arrived ; no daily mail 
brought him the news from the uttermost parts 
of the earth. The farmer's horse furnished his 
only means of communication with the outer 
parts of his limited world. On this useful ani- 
mal did he jog along to church on Sunday, 
with his good wife on the pillion behind him ; 

on week-days the same broad back carried to 
mill the corn laboriously raised on his rocky 
acres, to be ground into the meal that made so 
large a proportion of the family fare. And how 
was the country store, with its calico and mo- 
lasses, its codfish and good-natured gossip, to 
be reached without this trusty helper ? 

Somewhere in the State of Connecticut — we 
should not like to tell this tale of meanness if 
the name of the grand old State did not bring 
to mind Putnam and Hale and many another 
brave and worthy son — lived a man whose 
horse the government had drafted. This man 
made up his mean and selfish mind that not his 
own, but the horse of a poor widow who lived 
not far away, should be the one to go to the 



war. So over lie went to where the unprotected 
woman was trying to keep a home for her six 
fatherless children, and informed her that her 
horse had been drawn for the army, and that 
he had been directed to come at a certain hour 
early next morning, to take it to the place ap- 
pointed for the gathering of the drafted horses. 
Imagine the consternation of the mother and 
the lamentations of the children over this dread- 
ful news ! 

(as it says in the robber stories), and into its 
gloomy depths she guided her precious horse. 

There she stayed all through the long, lonely 
night. It was not until long after sunrise, when 
she knew the danger was over, that the deter- 
mined girl returned to her home. 

What must have been the clamorous joy 
of those children of a hundred years ago, and 
the relief of the anxious mother, when the old 
horse clattered soberly into his stable, and his 


But twelve-year-old Mabel, who had listened 
in silence, kept her own counsel ; and when bed- 
time came she went up to her little room as 
usual. But she quietly waited till all the house- 
hold were asleep, and then she gently opened 
her window, crept down the roof of the shed 
below it, and noiselessly slid to the ground. 

She went to the barn, led out the horse, put 
herself without any saddle upon his faithful 
back, and away she rode, her familiar voice 
softly urging the animal to his utmost speed. 

We do not know whether the night was light 
or dark; but we do know that the dauntless child 
went on and on " till she came to a thick wood " 

courageous young rider went into the house for 
her breakfast, like any other hungry little girl ! 

The crafty neighbor was probably not so 
jubilant, for after all his scheming he had been 
forced to furnish his own horse to the govern- 
ment, since the intended substitute was no- 
where to be found. 

Mabel lived to see the war ended, and our 
beloved Stars and Stripes floating over a free 
and peaceful land ; and it was a descendant of 
her family, a lady who wears a crown of silver 
hair, but whose heart is still brave and young, 
who told the writer this true story of the plucky 
girl whom she called "Aunt Mabel." 


In summer-time I often go 
Out to the fields where daisies grow 
And, kneeling on the grassy ground, 
I pick the flowers all around. 

And just before I leave the field 
I find a buttercup concealed 
Down in the grass. And then I stay 
To pluck its petals while I say : 

" One for fingers, two for thumbs, 
Three for cherries, four for plums, 
And five, for bread and butter nice ; 
I '11 just go home and get a slice." 



As once I played beside the sea, 

Its waters gently came to me, 

To bring me seaweed, stones, and shells, 

And wash the sand where I dig wells. 

But when I went another day, 
The waters slowly flowed away, 
To gather shells and pebbles more 
For me to play with on the shore. 


As little Dora was feeding some birds out of her window, a pretty ring- 
slipped from her finger and fell, and nobody could find it. She felt very sorry, 
for the ring had been given to her by her grandmama. It was too large 
for her, and she put it on only once in a while, and then would lay it away. 
Somebody said, " How foolish for her to feed the birds ! " One day, three or four 
weeks after she lost the ring, Dora thought she would look for it again, and she 
found in the bushes beneath her window a bird's nest and,peeping in, saw five 
little birds. The mother-bird flew around so wildly that Dora thought she 
would wait till some other day to look at the little baby-birds. But she got 
only a peep now and then, for the mother-bird kept watching, as if she feared 
somebody would rob her nest. But one day in July, when all was still, 
Dora stood tip-toe and gazed into the nest. The birds had all gone, but 
she saw something shining brightly in the soft down at the side of the nest 
where the birds had lived. It was her own precious ring, which had fallen 
into the nest ! She never lost it again, and she was always glad that she fed 
the birds. 


By Agnes Lewis Mitchill. 

One little brother is short and slow ; 
The other is taller, and he can run, 
For he takes twelve steps with his longer leg 
While his brother is taking one. 

One little brother a bell must ring, 
With every step that he slowly makes. 
But the other runs gaily from morn till night 
Nor cares to notice the steps he takes. 

He who loves riddles may guess me this one, — 
Who are the brothers and where do they run ? 
Vol. XXI.— 1 16. 9" 


Bv Garrett Newkirk. 



Contributors are respectfully informed that between the ist of June and the 15th of September manuscripts cannot conveniently be 

examined at the office of St. Nicholas. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions 

will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date. 

Boston, Mass. 

Dear St. Nicholas : The last time I wrote to you it 
was from Europe. When there we went to London, 
and in that city I saw many queer streets, and I think I 
will give you a few, viz., Stoney lane, Gutter street, 
Bread street. Half-moon street, Dove-mews, Bute place, 
Camomile street, Sise lane. Cushion street, Crip Stone 
street, Puddle dock, Roman Bath, Huggins lane, St. 
Mary's Axe street, and many others. 

We went to Salisbury and saw Stonehenge and the 
beautiful cathedral. While there, we drove to the house 
where Charles II. stayed after the battle of Worcester. 
It was a very pretty old-fashioned brick house set back 
amid some poplars. Coming home we drove by the old 
poultry cross, which was very interesting. 

I am yours forever, ALFRED T. B . 

St. Paul, Minn. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I am going to tell the readers 
of St. Nicholas about a class in manual-training for 

For a long time work with tools has been taught to 
the boys in St. Paul. Several months ago my father, 
who is principal of one of the schools here, organized a 
class of girls for this work. 

This manual-training class is the only one for girls in 
the grammar-schools of St. Paul. About twenty-five of 
us began the work, and most or all liked it very much. 
Our teacher, Mr. Oakes, is very skilful. 

We had a large room fitted up with a bench for each 
girl, and a set of tools at each bench. The tools are a 
thirty-degree triangle, a forty-degree triangle, a T- 
square, a knife, a saw, a hammer, two planes, and a few 
other necessary tools. We cut out triangles, hexagons, 
and other figures. We drew the figure first upon paper, 
then the same on wood, and cut the wood to the line 
with a knife. One of our last pieces of work was a 
match-scratcher, with a stippled design and a piece of 
sand-paper upon it. The last thing we made was a pa- 
per-cutter. It was a good deal of work. It was about 
six inches in length, and had a curved handle. 

Most of the girls were very sorry when vacation came 
and the lessons were ended. 

We hope to continue it until we became skilful in the 
use of tools. Your loving reader, 

Marie L. S . 

Jackson, Tenn. 
My dear St. Nicholas : I will send you a little 
poem I composed. 

the sly old moon. 

The Moon looked down upon the earth ; 
The Night said " Good-by," with sorrow. 
But the sly old Moon said, with a wink, 
" I might come back to-morrow." 

The Night looked brighter than before : 
" Now you must do what you say." 

But the sly old Moon said with two winks, 
"If not, some other day." 

Alice O'N . 

Solihull, near Birmingham, England. 
Dear St. Nicholas : Seeing in this month's num- 
ber of your delightful magazine something about 
Mothering Sunday, I thought your small readers over 
the water would like to know a little more about that 
day, and how it was, and is still, kept in the Midland 
counties of England. Long before the custom of the 
children giving presents to their mothers began, it was 
the custom for those who ordinarily attended service in 
the village churches to attend a service on that day at 
the Cathedral or Mother Church under whose rule they 
were. Upon this grew the custom of presenting to the 
mother of the household a small present on this Sun- 
day, and a cake called a simnel cake, which, let me tell 
you, is very rich and unpleasant to eat. After the Ref- 
ormation the first of the above-mentioned customs was 
discontinued, but the second still continues in some 
parts of the country. In Staffordshire is an old saying 
that "Who goes a-mothering finds violets in the lane!" 
and almost everybody in the villages who can, does go 
a-mothering ; but I don't suppose they always find vio- 
lets. In the Warwickshire village in which I live, which 
by the way is only eighteen miles from Shakspere's 
town, the school-children have a holiday on Mothering 
Sunday, and would feel very much defrauded if it were 
not given them. It is a very beautiful custom, I think, 
this of giving up one day every year to the mother who 
does so much for us ; and I hope it will be long before it 
is altogether forgotten. Believe me, dear St. Nicholas, 
Sincerely yours, Mary M . 



Many' years ago, in the days of King Arthur and his 
Knights of the Round Table, an armorer made two 
broadswords from the same piece of steel. These 
swords were bought by two knights between whose 
families there had been a feud for centuries. Each went 
his way. Years afterward the two lords met in mortal 
combat, to settle the feud. The lists were filled, the 
people waited breathlessly for the combatants to appear. 
The opponents were allowed three strokes at each other. 

The gallant chargers dashed together. There was a 
crash, two bright blades flashed in the sunlight, and 
were about to descend, when lo ! the swords leaped 
from their owners' hands and hung between the earth 
and sky! The knights reined back their pawing 
steeds, the lookers-on stared open-mouthed at the phe- 
nomenon. Then every one clamored for an explanation. 
While the crowd was surging round the two knights, a 
man, an armorer by trade, stepped from among them. 
Stretching his hands toward the weapons, he said 
"Come! " The swords dropped into his hands, as own- 
ing him their master. " Lords and ladies," he said 
simply, " 1 know these swords, for I myself forged them 
from the same piece of metal. Knowing that they were 
brothers the two blades refused to strike at each other." 

The mystery was solved. The master of ceremonies 
then came forward and addressed the knights. " My 



lords, why should ye not profit by this lesson ? Ye are 
near kinsmen severed by a feud ; nevertheless, ye are of 
the same stock. Have I spoken well ? " " Truly, 't was 
well said; so let it be! " exclaimed both the knights in 
the same breath; and forever after the two knights 
with the twin swords were inseparable. 

Upper Salt River, A. T. 

Dear St. Nicholas : We live in a valley entirely 
surrounded by high rugged hills and mountains. The 
Sierra Anchos are on the north, the Pinals on the east, 
and the Mogollon and Four Peaks on the south and 
west; in whatever direction we look we see mountains. 

When the vaqueros are rounding-up in the mountains 
they often set fire to the chaparral, which is so dense 
and cranky that no one can ride through it; and that 
opens the country and drives down the wild cattle. We 
can see their fires at night for forty or fifty miles, and 
when the Indians are on the war-palh, we can see their 
signal-fires in different directions. 

Your Arizona reader, Ida H . 

saddles, and cutting and sewing different patterns in 
leather is the work of the boys. 

Friday night is next. This class is called the News 
Club; and it well deserves its name. Hammock-making 
is the occupation of these boys. On Saturday night 
the boys work in wood. Sunday is set apart for a library. 
The boys of the club come and get a book to read during 
the week, returning it two weeks later. 

There is also an afternoon club. The boys too small 
to come in the night come in the afternoon on Tuesday, 
Wednesday, and Thursday, and on Saturday mornings. 
On Tuesday afternoon the boys make door-mats of hay 
ropes ; on the other days they make baskets. 

The club boys' mothers come on Monday afternoon 
and have tea, and talk. The club is in a private house. 

Young men and women come and teach the boys how 
to do the work. The club is not very large at present ; 
there are about 150 in the club altogether, and there are 
plenty more waiting for a vacancy. 

I remain, yours truly, John G . 

(One of the Friday night boys.) 

Mobile, Ala. 

Dear St. Nicholas : There are only three in our 
family — Father, Mother, and myself. I am the only 
child, and consequently go everywhere ihey go. We 
have traveled a great deal. I am originally from York 
shire, England. First we went to Japan, and stayed 
there for about five months. We had an American girl 
for our neighbor, and we soon became good friends. It 
was along lime before I got used to the dress and habits 
of the Japanese. It was too funny to see men drawing 
people about the streets in gigs ; but the Japs are not half 
as funny-looking as the Chinese. While we were in 
China we saw the emperor several times. The first time 
we saw him he was out for an airing. He was in alovely 
coach, the seats of which w r ere embroidered in purple and 
gold. The emperor had on a most gorgeous costume. 
It had so many colors in it that really I cannot describe 
it. The coach was drawn by six magnificent horses. 
Their harness was made of glittering gold, and each 
horse had a great purple plume fastened on the top of 
his head. Behind the emperor's coach was a long pro- 
cession of men on horseback. When the people saw the 
procession coming they bowed low and uncovered their 
heads. Lastyear we all came over to America. I visited 
the Exposition and saw Helen Keller. She has such a 
sweet face that I am all the more interested in her. 

Your most ardent admirer, VlVIENNE K. S . 

San Francisco, Cal. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I thought I would write to you 
and let you know about a little club we have got, called 
the S. F. Boys' Club. 

This club is made up for the pleasure and amusement 
of boys, who come in different classes and do different 
kinds of work. 

The first class meets on Monday evening. This class 
is called The Hale. On this evening, while some of the 
boys draw with charcoal, the others carve wood. After 
the boys finish their work they come down-stairs and play 
all sorts of games till it is time for home; then, getting 
their tickets, and with a good-night, they leave for home. 

Tuesday evening the boys cane chairs and make door- 
mats, and after work they read or play games. This 
club is called the Findout Club. On Wednesday even- 
ing the boys do a kind of metalwork. Thursday even- 
ing leather is the chief material; repairing and mending 

Verdugo, California. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I live in southern California, 
very near Los Angeles. Although January, February, 
and March are in the eastern States the most unpleasant 
months of the year, here it is almost as hot as in sum- 
mer, and everything is green and fresh. The oranges 
are then ripening in the many orchards around us, and to 
those who are not accustomed to it, it seems very strange 
to see both flowers and fruit at once on the same tree. 

We live in the midst of the foot-hills, not far from the 
real mountains, and the other day we took a trip up 
Mount Lowe. This is a peak in the great range near 
by, and to the foot of it runs an electric road, but for the 
steeper ascent there is a cable. We drove the greater 
part of the way, and enjoyed it very much. We passed 
great fields of brilliant orange-colored poppies — a com- 
mon sight here, although they are seldom seen in such 
numbers. We ate our lunch at the foot of the moun- 
tain, and then took the electric car. It winds through a 
very picturesque canon to the starting-place of the cable 
road. This ascent is probably the steepest in the world. 
The steepest grade is sixty-two per cent, to every hun- 
dred feet, and the lowest, forty-two. We waited for a 
few moments at the hotel, for the car had just gone up, 
heavily loaded, and another must come down. One 
looks somewhat apprehensively at the terrible ascent, 
and the tiny white speck creeping down toward us seems 
as if it must lose its hold and fall. But no ! even while 
we watch, it comes nearer and nearer, and at last, at the 
foot, it has stopped; we are all crowding in, and with a 
few moments' wait for all to be comfortably settled, we 
are started at last. If you do not look over the edges 
of the car you will hardly realize the steepness of the 
road, for the cars are built in such a manner as to keep 
the seats perfectly level. We slowly creep up the as- 
cent, while the conductor kindly gives us a history of 
the road, the money it cost, the trouble it took, and the 
beauty of the view. This road runs only to the top of 
Echo Mount — a part of Mount Lowe — but it is to be 
extended. As we ascend, the country spreads out like a 
map in little squares of green, and the many poppies 
look like rust. We had a pleasant time at the top of 
Echo Mount, where there is a good hotel. Taking 
horses, we rode on a narrow trail up through a deep 
canon to the source of the water-supply, and found it 
very interesting. They have all the characteristic moun- 
tain animals in cages, and we spent some time looking at 
them. There were two wildcats — beauties, but they 
never ceased gTOwling; a lynx, a little black bear, a pretty 



gray squirrel, two eagles, and a huge hawk. The fun- 
niest thing was a baby burro. The burro is a kind of 
donkey, but has long rough hair, and is very much 
smaller. This baby burro was as shaggy as the shaggi- 
est little poodle; you could not see his eyes at all through 
the thick hair. After spending two hours on the moun- 
tain top, we again took the car — this time going down. 
When we reached the hotel at the foot, we went up 
through Rubio Canon to the beautiful Leontine Falls, 
where the water falls over a solid wall of rock in two 
leaps of about sixty feet each. The scenery all through 
the canon is grand beyond description. We all had 
cut manzanita canes for mementos of our visit, and found 
them very useful in climbing. The manzanita has a 
smooth bark with very twisted stems, and in color ranges 
from dark red to cinnamon. A large bay-tree was grow- 
ing near the hotel, and we all took a spray of it. We 
boarded the last electric car reluctantly, for we had had 
a very pleasant time. Your faithful reader, 

Nora F . 

North Brink, Wisbech, England. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I thought some of your readers 
might like to hear how my younger sister and I drive our 
uncle's collie dogs with reins. It is great fun. We have 
two pairs of reins, so that we could drive them together 
or one each, but we scarcely ever drive the old one ; she 
is so silly and nervous. She is very handsome, and in 
some parts nearly black. She is called " Flossie." The 
young one is much more fun, and he is always jumping 
and barking about. T was born in South America, and 
so was my sister. My grandmama sends you to me 
every month. Your devoted admirer, 

Leila K. S . 

Kansas City, Mo. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I am twelve years old. When 
I was a very little girl my spine was hurt, and I have 
been so helpless since I can't even turn in bed when I 
feel cramped lying in one position. But I am very happy. 
My dear mama gives me most loving attention, and I 
have such beautiful flowers and all the books I want. 
On account of my headaches, I am not allowed to try to 
study or read, except St. Nicholas (other books Mama 
reads aloud to me); that is always given to me, and I 
read it when I feel strong enough. Such a dear friend as 
it is! I am so glad to welcome it each month. I have 
been so interested in what it contained about Helen 
Keller. There is a liitie girl who is so much worse off 
than I am, and yet she is so happy and cheerful. But of 
all the stories, I like "Toinette's Philip" best. I should 
like to write about my little black-and-tan dog. She is 
so funny. But I am afraid I am taking too much space. 
May I send my love to the other St. Nicholas children ? 

Maysie E . 

Niles, Mich. 

Dear St. Nicholas: lam ten years old. I have 
taken the St. Nicholas four years and enjoy its stories 
very much. 

Five years ago we went to California : Grandma, 
Grandpa, Aunt Blanche, Mama, and myself. As we 
were passing through Arizona, a man got on the train, 
who was dressed like a cow-boy ; he had on a buckskin 
suit and a large sombrero. We got to talking with him, 
and he said he had been among the Mexicans and In- 
dians. He said one day, when he was standing at the 
door of his house, a Mexican shot him through the cheek. 
Fie was on his way to his home in Los Angeles. On 

inquiring his name, he said it was Charles F. Lummis. 
Since then I have renewed his acquaintance in the St. 
Nicholas. I look for his stories with great interest. I 
hope he will have some more soon. 

I remain your loving reader, BLANCHE W . 

Boom Camp, via Casa Grande, Ariz. 

Dear old St. Nicholas : Mama took you two years 
before I was born and two years after ; so when we came 
away down here to a mining-camp in the deserts of Ari- 
zona, I have had the old numbers to read, which Mama 
says are worth more than a gold-mine to me. Since I 
have been here I have saved my own money to take you. 

I should like to give you a description of some of the 
wonderful cacti here. Our great sahuaro would easily 
reach over the tops of some of your two- and three-story 
buildings. They are covered with rows of thorns, the 
shortest a quai ter of an inch in length, the longest over 
three inches. They have a beautiful wax-like flower, 
and bear a delicate fruit. Apache Indians, who were 
driven out of this country by Pappago and Pima Indians 
(who still remain here), used to make their victims 
climb up these great poles. 

The ocatillo is another strange cactus. Its long, ihin, 
and slightly twisted branches, growing from one root, 
look something like snakes twirled in the air, though 
at the tip of each branch there blossoms a beautiful 
scarlet flower, which is full of sweet honey. 

As my letter is getting too long, I will finish with the 
cholla, which grows in all sorts of shapes, and is a mass 
of thorns. It also has a lovely flower of very rich colors. 
It ranges in size from higher than our buggy-lop to 
smaller than the top of my shoe. 

There are several Indian villages a few miles away. 
The Indians bring corn, wheat, squash, watermelons, 
and pottery to sell. We talk to them with a few Indian 
and Spanish words we have picked up. 

I am nine years old, and love St. Nicholas as my 
best friend. Adios. Your loving reader, 

C. Olga R . 

Yera Criz, Mexico. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I live on the shore of the Gulf 
of Mexico. Our house faces the sea. I have three 
brothers, and I am the only daughter. We have a large 
boat called the *' Argos," and we enjoy going out in it. 

My English teacher subscribed for you, and wc all 
like you very much. I have all my lessons in English. 
Your little Mexican friend, 

Concepcio.n M . 

We thank the young friends whose names follow for 
pleasant letters received from them : Bertha P., Helen 
C, Elinor S. L., Mary S. T., Janet D. B., E. Louise T., 
Laura, Edna S. P., Leslie J. M., Helen S. S., Martin N., 
Edith A. N., Edith R. M., Gabriella M. D., Rose S., 

B. B., D. W., Edna T., Katie W. B., Sumner G. R., 
Genevieve F. W., David H., Helen R. C, Olivia H., 
Mary W. M., Mary Austin Y., Madeline J., Isabel A., 

C. T. H., Margaret J. E., Robert M. M., Alma S. B., 
F. P. H., Ruth M. B., Hans Carl D., A. S. T., Clari- 
bel M., Clover D., Florence D., Alice V. J., Willie K., 
Marie D., B. M. M., Luella C, Harry I. H., Sarah F. 
H., Paul P., Olive, Nina S. Y., Earle C. A., Fred D., 
Fannie H., Mary P., Mary B. M., Lorraine E., Nellie 
F., Virginia H. K., Floy C. 



Cube. From i to 2, vulture; 1 to 3, varlets; 2 to 4, entwines; 
3 to 4, sausage ; 5 to 6, dialect ; 5 to 7, decided ; 6 to 8, twisted ; 
7 to 8, defaced ; 1 to 5, void ; 2 to 6, erst ; 4 to 8, eyed ; 3 to y, stud. 

Pi. Hot midsummer's petted crone, 

Sweet to me thy drowsy tone 
Tells of countless sunny hours. 
Long days; and solid banks of flowers; 
Of gulfs of sweetness without bound, 
In Indian wildernesses found; 
Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, 
Firmest cheer, and birdlike pleasure. 

Emerson. — "To the Humble Bee." 

Some Letter-words, i. E-calm. 2. X-changed. 3. Enu- 
merated. 4. X-claimed. 5. D-famed. 6. X-pert. 7. D-pendent. 
8. X-pounded. 9. D-graded. 10. X-communicatmg. 11. 5-chewed. 
12. C-raled. 13. B-moaned. 14. D-parted. 15. D-populated. 
16. E-late. 17. M- 1- grated. 18. X-E-crated. 

Word-square, i. Camp. 2. Alone. 3. Moor. 4. Pert. 

To our Puzzlers : Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and should 
be addressed to St. Nicholas " Riddle-box-," care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the May Number were received, before May 15th. from Jo and I — Paul Reese — Helen 
Rogers — Mama, Isabel, and Jamie — Josephine Sherwood — Louise Ingham Adams — M. S. and D. S- — "All Three" — Isabelle Clark — 
Uncle Mung — L. O. E. — Marjorie, Mabel, and Henri — Annie Robbins Peabody. 

Answers to Puzzles in the May Number were received before May 25th, from Mama and Sadie, ro — Francis W. Honey- 
cutt, 1 — Lucy B. Reene, 1 — G. B. Dyer, n — fi M. McG.," 11 — Ethel C. Watts, 2 — E. L. McAdory, 3 — Helen C. McCleary, it — 
Bessie T. Rosan, 1 — Hugh Kahler, 1 — Walter S. Weller, 2 — Homer Viles, 1 — J. F. M., 1 — " G. S." and " M. Springer," 1 — "Two 
Chickens," 1 — S. V. M. P., 2 — Ellen Jewett, 3 — Alice Butterfield, 1 — "Romeo and Juliet," 1 — Wilson A. Monroe, 1 — "Two Athe- 
nians," 4 — Leila C, 2 — Edna H. Reynolds, 1 — Virginia H. K., 1 — Harold A. Fisher, 5 — John F. Russell, Jr., 2 — Mary Gardner. 3 — 
Mary Pratt, 1 — Ray Wall, 1 — Geo. S. Seymour, 9 — No Name, Portland, Oregon, 2 — E:hel M. Cook, 2 — Dodo and Beebee, 1 — Erne 
K. Talboys, 9 — " Two Muses," 1 — Marjorie Lewis, 1 — One Little Girl in Blue, r — " The Wise Five," 11 — " English Cowslip," 6 — 
May Fitzpatrick, 1 — Gertrude Miller, 5 — R. O. B., 3 — Otto Wolkwitz, 1 — Hans Wolkwitz, 1 — H. D. Grinnell, 1 — R. W. G., 1 — L. 
H. K., 1 — Alma Steiner, 2 — Bessie R. Crocker, 10 — Herbeit Wright, 3 — Anna Rochester, 4 — " Apple K." and " Rusticity," 6 — Mar- 
jory Gane, 8 — Eleanor Williams, 8 — Louise May hew, 2 — June, 10 — Adele Clark, 1 — M. G D., 1 — Carrie Miller, 2 — Lillian Davis, 1 — 
John Fletcher and Jessie Chapman, 11 — No Name, New York City, n — Blanche and Fred, 11 — Two Little Brothers, 9 — Ida Carleton 
Thallon, 11 — No Name, Phila., 11 — Rosalie Bloomingdaie, 11 — " Highmount Girls," 10 — "Gamma Kai Gamma," 4 — Uncle Will 
and I, 1 — " Butterflies," 10 — Marie P., 3 — Isabella W. Clarke, 5 — Ruth Mason, 1 — "Tip-cat," 9. 

Hour-class. Centrals, Fanatic. Cross-words : 1. safFron. 

2. frAnc. 3. aNt. 4. A. 5. aTe. 6. blind. 7. penCils. 
Illustrated Double Acrostic. Primals, Freedom ; finals, 

Lincoln. Cross-words: 1. Fowl. 2. Radii. 3. Eighteen. 4. Ec- 
clesiastic. 5. Dodo. 6. Oval. 7. Martin. 

Seven Famous Authors. i. Coleridge. 2. Wordsworth. 

3. Lamb. 4. Pope. 5. Hugo. 6. Carlyle. 7. Cowper. 
Numerical Enigma. "The talent of success is nothing more 

than doing what you can do well ; and doing well whatever you do, 
without a thought of fame." Hyperion. 

A Diamond in a Diamond. I. 1. B. 2. Bag. 3. Bella. 4. Bal- 
lots. 5. Globe. 6. Ate. 7. S. 

Central Acrostic. Centrals, Farragut. Cross-words: 1. proF- 
fer. 2. bloAter. 3. chaRiot. 4. claRion. 5. broAden. 6. draGged. 
7. fraUght. 8. cloThes. 

Novel Zigzag. From 1 to 7, Lincoln ; from 8 to 14, Dickens. 
Cross-words: 1. Yielding. 2. Childish. 3. Announce. 4. Cook- 
book. 5. Howitzer. 6. Pulmonic. 7. Transfer. 


All of the words described contain the same number 
of letters. The two central rows, reading downward, 
spell the name of an eminent American author, and the 
name of one of the United States. 

Cross-words : 1. Enchanting. 2. Swamp blackbirds. 
3. A vindicator. 4. Affected niceness. 5- Inclined to 
one side, under a press of sail. 6. 
Fixed dislike. 7. Comforted. 
Emitting. 9. Inclosed places con- 
structed for producing and main* 



This little man has the whole 
alphabet in his bag. What one 
letter must he take from it to com- 
plete the nine syllables shown in ^H 
the picture? 


I am composed of sixty- 
four letters, andformaquo- 

tation concerning brains, 
from the writings of 
Thomas Fuller. 

My 17-2 is a conjunc- 
tion. My 24-35-1 1-61 is 
a measure of length. My 

15-4S-5S-43 is to dart along. My 26-30-8-55-41 is part 
of a saw. My 53-51-9-32-22 is a pleasure-boat. My 
64-2S-5-19-23 is a sweet fluid. My 37-7-46-34-45 is 
the pollox. My 38-12-36-60-4 is a Russian proclama- 
tion or imperial order. My 49-14-20-16-62-6 is the 
blue titmouse. My 29-21 -42-57-39-10-31 is a very 
common bird. My i8-=6-I3-33-50-i-25 was a very wise 
man. My 44-59-47-63-27-3-40-52-54 is intensifies. 

L. W. 


From I to 2, a grassy plain ; from 1 to 3, an introduc 
tion ; from 2 to 4, to extinguish from 3 to 4, to develop 
from 5 to 6, a building; from 5 to 7, an abridgment 
from 6 to 8, one who elects ; from 7 to 8, to give author- 
ity to; from I to 5, to languish; from 2 to 6, a border; 
from 4 to 8, always ; from 3 to 7, other. " zuar." 




re are eighteen 
words pronounced in say- 
ing " United States." All 
of these words have differ- 
ent meanings, though some 
are pronounced alike. For 
instance, unite, knight, night, 
etc. What are the other fifteen 
words? H. w. ELLIS. 


My first is something of which only man, alligators, 
serpents, and cats are capable. 

My second is common to three of the above-named 

My third is a short railway. 

My whole is the only thing man has created. 


ters, reading downward, will spell 
an old instrument of punishment. 
Cross-words: i. A kind of tree. 
2. A sharp instrument. 3. Dirt. 4. A 
seaweed of a reddish brown color, which 
is sometimes eaten. 5. To scrutinize or 
examine thoroughly. 6. A body of men. 
7. Upholding the lawful authority. 


I. In lock. : 
4. A color. 5. 


:. A vehicle. 3. An animal. 

In lock. S. STRINGER. 


My first is in fly, but not in gnat; 
My second, in weasel, but not in cat; 
My third is in raven, but not in wren ; 
My fourth is in bittern, but not in hen; 
My fifth is in crane, but not in stork ; 
My sixth is in tern, but not in auk ; 
My seventh, in heron, but not in teal ; 
My eighth is in lamprey, but not in eel ; 
My ninth is in lion, but not in boar ; 
My whole is a monster of mythical lore. 


Square: i. Leaven. 2. Impetuous. 3. Active. 4. A 
city in Alabama. 5. To walk with a stately step. 

Included Diamond: i. In eagle. 2. To become 
old. 3. Alert. 4. A giaceful tree. 5. In eagle. 

H. W. E. 


Rearrange the numbers given in the column in such 
a way that, reading by sound, one or more words may 
be formed. For instance, when the figure I, now placed 
before the syllable "pins," is placed before the syllable 
" der," the word " wonder" will be formed. What are 
the remaining words ? 

9 wist, 

6 on, 

2 tell, 
So tor, 

8 ply, 
10 cup, 

3 der, 

4 pell, 
I pins. 


All the words described contain the same number of 
letters ; when rightly guessed, and placed one below 
another, in the order here given, the central row of let- 

J. C. B. 

10 . 

. . 19 . . 


. 20 . . 

. . . . 13 . . 

. 22 . . 

. . . . 14 . . 

■ • 23 . . 

. . . . 15 . . 

. . 24 . . 

. . . . 16 . . 

• ■ 25 • • 

. . . . 17 . . 

. . 26 . . 

. . . . 18 . . 

. . 27 . . 




From I to 9, a famous general ; from 10 to iS, a famous 
statesman ; from 19 to 27, a famous author ; from 28 to 
36, a famous authoress. 

From 1 to 10, piercing ; 2 to 11, a severe test ; 3 to 12, 
a misty or cloudlike object in the heavens ; 4 to 13, within 
a ship ; 5 to 14, a name given to South American plains ; 
6 to 15, unceremonious; 7 to 16, florid and fantastic in 
style; 8 to 17, a kind of plaid cloth, much worn in the 
Highlands of Scotland; 9 to 18, to come forth. 

From 10 to 19, a town of Sind, British India; 11 to 
20, a thin plate or scale; 12 to 21, a masculine name; 
13 to 22, to pour into bottles ; 14 to 23, to seek for; 15 
to 24, a city of Spain, noted for its weapons : 16 to 25, 
one who is eloquent; 17 to 26, a people; 18 to 27, to 
pass away silently, as time. 

From 19 to 28, to stick at small matters; 20 to 29, 
acknowledged openly; 21 to 30, arousing; 22 to 31, part 
of a bell; 23 to 32, a famous English school; 24 to 33, 
a city of Portugal ; 25 to 34, inveterate hatred ; 26 to 35, 
nothing; 27 to 36, sufficient. " SAMUEL SYDNEY." 


! — _ 


Vol. XXI. 


Copyright, 1894, by The Centl'rv Co. All rights reserved. 

No. 11. 


By M. M. D. 

Willy, our bonny sailor, 

With a "Hi-ho!" and a "Heave away!" 
Willy, our would-be whaler, 
" Oho, lads, ho ! " 

Ruddy of cheek and eager-eyed, 

Willy, our sailor boy j 
Ship-builder he of a tiny craft, 

Hear him, our whaler boy: 

" My, but the boat was a beauty ! 
A staver! A* stunning toy; 
And all by myself I built her!" 
(Willy, our sailor boy.) 

" She was n't more than a handful, 
That, sir, I don't deny ; 
But she went on a voyage of wonder 
And came back high and dry. 

" She sailed from the pool like a good one 
And then she slipped from sight, 
Dipped, in a flash, and was gone, sir ! " 
(Willy, our midshipmite !) 

" Then up she rose on a billow, 
And sailed till I lost her track; 
I waited, and waited, and waited, — 

And how do you think she came back?" 

Willy, our would-be whaler, 
" Oho, lads, ho ! " 

" I heard a frisking and dashing, 
Soft as the lightest spray, — 
A tittering crowd came splashing 
To the cool rock where I lay. 

" Up I sprang in a hurry. 
Oh, but I saw a sight '. 
Six queer bright little faces, 

Dripping, and merry with light. 

" They were mermaids, as sure as I 'm living, 
Bringing my boat to me, 
That mite of a boat, — now I 'm giving 
The story as straight as can be ! 

" They clung, their bright hair streaming, 
Close to my rock, and laughed; 
Now what makes you think I was dreaming ? 
And why do you say I was daft ? 

" The boat, — where is it ? you wonder ? 
Well, somehow, before I knew, 
The mermaids and boat slipped under, 
And hid in the waters blue." 

Willy, our bonny sailor, 

With a "Hi-ho ! " and a "Heave away ! " 

Willy, our bonny sailor, 

With a " Hi-ho ! " and a "Heave away ! ' 
Willy, our bold young whaler, 
" Oho, lads, ho .' " 


By Rachel Carew. 

For years Betty had longed for an Angora 
cat, — " A big woolly darling with a plumy tail, 
and with gooseberry-green eyes like Miss Tip- 
ping's ! " As she made this somewhat mislead- 
ing exclamation, Betty's own pretty hazel eyes 
were wont to sparkle with enthusiasm at the 
recollection of Miss Tipping's peerless pet. 

Privately, I thought these cats frowsy, haughty, 
thankless creatures, always shedding their coats 
freely over the household, and very fussy about 
their food. But I was very fond of Betty, and 
during all the eighteen years of her life, it had 
been my secret yearning to gratify her with any- 
thing in my power to procure, from horned 
toads to white elephants. 

The time for the Angora cat had now clearly 
arrived. 1 was in Paris, just about starting 
home to rejoin Betty at Mariner's Island, where 
we had a little cottage. Cats are nowhere finer 
nor more prized than in Paris, and with what 
better present could I surprise Betty than with 
one of these coveted Angoras ? 

I betook myself to the Rue de Seve, near 
the Madeleine, a well-known quarter for use- 
less and expensive quadrupeds of all sorts, and 
after due care selected " Lucifer." He was 
alone in a compartment of a large wire cage, 
and seemed bored and unhappy. It was evi- 
dently wearing upon his temper to listen to the 
gibes and chattering of a lot of small parrots 
and bullfinches just beyond his reach. 

I poked a wheedling finger through Lucifer's 
cage, at which overture he slowly got up, 
yawned, and turned his back upon me. The 
proprietor of the establishment laid hold of him 
by his fluffy neck, and drew him out spluttering 
and hissing, for my nearer inspection. 

" He is not at all mechant ; trcs geniil, ires 
sage, as madame can see." 

Lucifer reached forth and gave me a spiteful 
slap with his paw, which I thought neither gen- 
til not sage — neither good-mannered nor kind. 

'•And the purest specimen of his kind," con- 
tinued the man, overlooking this display of tem- 
per — " if madame will but regard the tassels in 
his ears and between his toes, sure sign of race ; 
and the rich quality of his fur — such depth and 
thickness. Behold a cat that would adorn a 
palace, and not yet four months old ! Is it not 
admirable, the rose tint of his ears, nose, and 
the cushions on his feet — truly an adorable ani- 
mal, and white as the driven snow when re- 
moved from the dusty atmosphere of my poor 

I was most struck by the large size of Luci- 
fer's feet, and the generally dirty, ragged look 
of his coat, already "shedding" badly, as I 

He certainly had a very handsome, bushy 
tail, and the eyes that regarded me with such 
disapproval were of the desired gooseberry- 
green. I must admit that he was a fine big 
fellow that did one credit, on the whole, and I 
paid a price for him which I do not intend to 
mention to anybody. 

In due time we bade our French boarding- 
house farewell, and started on the homeward 
journey, Lucifer, in a large wicker cage, glaring 
forth defiance at the noisy Parisian world. 

" I don't envy you the care of that great 
heavy cat on your long journey," my friend 
said, consolingly. 

I strove to smother my own private misgiv- 
ings by murmuring to myself, " It is for Betty's 

During the Dover crossing, as I lay a limp 
bundle of misery on the deck, an ancient mar- 
iner whispered hoarsely in my ear, "That there 
cat of yours, ma'am, is gettin' a tidy soakin' wid 
salt-water; a matter of half-a-crown or so would 
cover him up fine and snug wid a tarpaulin." 

The cat-fancier in the Rue de Seve had as- 
sured me that exposure to cold would make 
Lucifer stone-deaf, and, conscience-stricken at 



my neglect, I gave the mariner five shillings to 
make the fine fellow comfortable. For the 
remainder of the trip I consequently suffered 
faint tortures of anxiety lest the old man in his 
zeal had smothered Lucifer. 

In London we alighted at Miss Nightingale's 
boarding-house. This lady eyed my four-footed 
companion with marked disapproval, I won- 
dered if, because of her name, she had a natural 
fear and aversion to all the feline tribe. 

" I really cannot re- 
ceive the cat, madam, 
upon any terms," she 
said with decision. 

" What is to be done ? " 
I asked helplessly; " he 
is not mine, and I am 
responsible for his safety. 
I should never, from my 
own choice, travel with 
a valuable cat." 

" There is a veterinary 
surgeon near by who 
would doubtless take 
him to board." 

I drove to this ad- 
dress, and cheerfully left 
Lucifer for a few days, 
relieved to know that 
he was well cared for, 
and at a distance. 

The cat-doctor'sname 
was Peacock, and his 
bill — on thick paper, 
with a richly emblazoned 
professional crest, " Miss 
Nightingale to Doctor 
Peacock, for care and 
medical attendance of 
Angora cat" — read like 
an extract from a fairy 

tale, till one came to the amount, which was 
too solid to be the work of fairy fingers. 

On board the ocean-steamer I consigned 
Lucifer to the daily care of the butcher. He 
already had quite a menagerie in charge: 
monkeys, dogs, parrots, an Astrakhan lamb, 
and many other guests, furred and feathered. 

" Are you not afraid they will eat one another 
up ? " I asked timidly. 

"Would n't wonder if they did, ma'am, if 
their fares was n't paid," the butcher replied. 
I took this as a delicate hint, and gave him a 

At various New York hotels I was refused 
admittance on account of Lucifer, and as there 
seemed to be no Doctor Peacock conveniently 
near, I decided to proceed at once to Mariner's 
Island and Betty. 

It was long in advance of the season, and a 

0>" d fei.t 


very shabby little steamer plied between B 

and the island. Before embarking on this dingy 
craft I noticed a procession of weather-beaten 
old salts filing in and out of the cabin, and on 
asking the cause was shown a paragraph in 
that morning's paper which ran thus : 

Miss N , a guest at the YVilkie House last night, 

has just arrived from Paris with a rare and very valuable 




cat — a large and powerful animal with fierce expression, 

long fur, and a tail like a fox. Miss N embarks for 

Mariner's Island on the " Badger " this afternoon. 

I found Lucifer's cage bestrewn with tempt- 
ing offerings of many kinds : fish, bits of meat, 
catnip, and various straws and twigs used to 
tickle him into some show of animation. One 
old fellow, Captain Wobber. was specially inter- 
ested in Lucifer's travels. " So that there cat 
has been in them big cities across the sea. My 
daughter Elmiry has been to foreign parts, too, 
France, London, and England, a-lookin' up our 
old ancestors — found 'em, too, and there 's 
money behind 'em. Jest let me give him an- 
other bite o' this eel; it seems to relish him 
amazin'. So you 're goin' over to Mariner's 
Island ? I was over there once a snipein' it 
[hunting snipe] with one o' Bill Tinker's boys. 
Pretty nice place." 

Courtesy seemed to require that I should 
urge Captain Wobber to honor us with a visit 
when next he came in quest of snipe. 

" Thank you kindl